Fools Fall In
by thegoffietwerb
Summary: The path to True Love is an arduous one. After years of bad luck, the girl of Krillin's dreams has finally walked into his life. But unfortunately - so has the woman of his nightmares. A Romantic Comedy... with Cyborgs.
1. Sorry you're not a winner

_Alrighty folks here's the obligatory 'I dont own Dragonball Z or any of its characters' and all that jazz. And now, on with the story - A Romantic Comedy...with Cyborgs._

**Fools fall in.**

_"This is no Bridget Jones." - Kill the Director by The Wombats_

* * *

Krillin had seen the end of the world more than 5 times. He had fought for his life and the lives of others against unbeatable odds, repeatedly lost his best friends, been shot at, beaten, and killed. Twice. But the fear and unease he felt at this moment was far greater than any he'd felt when standing face to face with whatever new horror the universe had decided to unleash (be it effeminate space lizard or giant monkey). It had been 4 days and he hadn't seen Master Roshi touch one piece of pornography (or himself for that matter) once.

None. Nil. Zip.

Surely this was the first sign of the Apocalypse.

Standing over by the open living room window, he observed his old mentor pottering around before finally deciding on paying attention to the film he was watching. The PG rated film he was watching. Wrong. Just plain wrong. He shook his head and turned away. The sun was low in the sky, and he could feel the soft breeze getting chillier with the onset of dusk. The sounds of the sea lapping gently at the shore soothed. It was peaceful. It had been peaceful for a while now. Precisely, thought Krillin, five months, one week, three days and god only knows how many hours. Life had been quiet and uneventful since what happened all those months ago, the battle with Cell. The serene state of things had made getting on with life a little easier, but emotions were still rather raw for all involved –especially those closest to…

He let out a tired sigh. It had been five months, one week, three days (and all of those wretched hours) since Son Goku had died at the Cell Games. And oh, how he missed him. Loved him and missed him and had been angry with him at first…but he forgave. He always forgave. That much at least had rubbed off on him from Goku. As frustrating as it was, he respected his friends decision, (for the most part, so far anyway,) and a part of him knew that his friend had been right in his reasoning that he caused all the trouble in his loved ones lives. Always the martyr. He had everything, and then let it go for the sake of others, the greater good and all rest that came with being the hero gig. The monk chuckled to himself; he wouldn't have done it. That was for sure. Well, not if he had as much to loose as Goku had. Wife. Child. The whole shebang.

But as fate would have it - he didn't.

A fresh new wave of depression swept over the monk. He banged his head against the lintel. He had bugger all, just a house on an island with a perverted geriatric. Friends and loved ones, yes. A girlfriend… lover….no. As per usual. As per always.

But he did have… memories of a mocking kiss; an unconscious form in his arms. Her.

He looked up towards the horizon. Android 18. Cold and unimpressed, dangerous and beautiful and so far out of reach. A sad smile played on his lips as he thought about her. He was so sure hadn't felt this way about any woman before, from the moment she's first spoken to him…kissed his cheek…there had been something....

It hadn't been there from first sight of course – at that point he'd been too busy trying to calculate his chance of survival (and control the urge to just faint). Whatever he tried to tell himself, that it was just a tiny spark of attraction, a little crush…a voice in his head told him otherwise. To hold onto it; this strange new feeling. It…it was love it just had to be, because, pondered Krillin, that would be frustratingly cruel of fate. And from past experience, fate was almost explicitly cruel when he was concerned. He was a walking talking definition of Sod's Law. Yes, she was beautiful, and yes, she was aloof to everything, but she was his. Or more accurately, he was hers. She had his love and affection and hopes and the pieces of his heart when he would finally give up on her in the end. He was a realist masquerading as an optimist. 18 was unattainable, she was not meant for love, but to admit that and acknowledge it….that could wait a little while longer.

Not that he could attempt to make anything happen between them, the android and her brother had apparently disappeared from the face of the planet. He had looked, not thoroughly, but earnestly. When he'd been in the cities, shopping, or running errands, he'd searched. The woman was a mystery. He knew so little about her or even 17. It looked as if he'd never find her; he doubted she even cared if he ever did.

Never mind.

He shivered as a cold breeze blew in from across the sea. Shutting the window and turning around, he saw that the sofa in front of the television was vacant. Roshi had disappeared, leaving his film on. He chuckled to himself as he saw a chubby, curly haired boy in a Hawaiian shirt on the screen jiggling about to appease his friends. Things were slowly getting back to normal…or as normal as it could possibly get.

His train of thought came to an abrupt halt when he heard raised voices from the kitchen. Then a loud 'BANG' followed by some choice swearwords from Oolong.

Intrigued, Krillin quickly and silently walked to the kitchen door, catching snippets of the manic conversation, a conversation being held in a very loud series of whispers. Obviously he wasn't supposed to be hearing it. Oolong was upset…angry even with Master Roshi, who was trying his best to talk his way out of something. It's not that bad. Wasn't that bad? How could you? This is ridiculous. Have you any idea who she is?! I was drunk. I wasn't thinking straight. Whisper whisper loud whisper– he raised an eyebrow. The shape shifter and the sensei were in a heated argument, Oolong was holding a rolled up magazine of some sort in his hand, Roshi's glasses were askew. Both were oblivious to him watching them.

"Surely you two can work things out? I mean if you both love each other and all, things will all be alright in the end."

His friends both looked at him simultaneously, each with an identical look of horror on their face. They hadn't noticed him come in; he was leaning against the fridge. The pig let out what sounded like a cross between a choked laugh and a whimper, moving the magazine behind his back. Silence. Krillin crossed his arms and let a confused smile reach his face.

"Guys, what's the matter? Seriously, you're running out of time to hit me with a sarcastic comeback," more silence and expressions of rabbits caught in headlights, he looked at his watch, "Ah, no. that's it, 6 second rule. You're both officially bickering lovers."

Roshi repositioned his glasses, looking anywhere but at his student, "I, we, there was a misunderstanding about, um, some….porn?" he rubbed the back of his head and laughed. Oolong nodded along. Krillin remained unconvinced. There was obviously something up. There had been for days. About 4 days…ever since they had come back from…Urgh that had to be it.

Every so often Roshi and Oolong would head off to Baba's palace for a Poker night full of bickering, gambling and drinking along with her cronies. Krillin had been a couple of times before, but always ended up loosing more money than was fun – he was certain the witch cheated – so never really went back. He knew that Roshi always got much more 'loose' with his money and his tongue when he'd been drinking; Oolong was prone to falling asleep when drunk, so the old man often went unchecked. This was never good. There had been an incident where he'd betted away his cane and his left arm. Oolong waking up in the nick of time had prevented Baba getting a very sadistic 'one-up' on her younger brother. What the hell had happened this time?

"…Did something happen at Baba's palace? Both of you have been acting really weird since, and I'm no expert, but I'm sure a poker night isn't supposed to have this much of a lasting effect on a person."

His friends exchanged glances. Very guilty glances.

"Oh dear god,", he scowled, putting his hands on his hips, the three of them living together in Kame house weren't exactly rolling in cash at the moment and Baba was notorious for her love of money…"how much did you two lose?!"

"Oh boy," Oolong grimaced, "you getting upset at that doesn't really bode well for the rest of this conversation"

"What happened, Oolong."

"I can't say. He did it! I was unconscious…I think. Or preoccupied with staring at her breasts… She had lovely breasts –"

"Oolong! Ssssh"

Krillin stared pointedly at Master Roshi. He'd probably have to fix whatever the old git had done, so there was no point beating about the bush with it. He tapped his foot like an impatient mother about to scold her child. He took a deep breath and calmly said, "Master, please tell me what happened, once it's all out in the open we'll be able to go about finding a solution –"

The old man considered this for a second, then let out a long sigh, "Do you have any strong feelings regarding the colour blue?"

"What? Why would I- hmmf", the monk placed his hand over his eyes and moved it over his head, rubbing his neck, "Okay. Let's go through what happened. One teeny-tiny-baby step at a time. You-"

"I may have accidentally lost you in a bet."

"You…you what?"

"Lost you in a bet….to a demon."

"You lost me in a bet to a demon, you…you lost me in a bet to a demon!?!!"

"She seems like a very nice demon, apart from that definite… Basic Instinct vibe……….."

This was answered with silence and a rather disturbing stare – one that seemed to say 'when I recover from being frozen with pure unadulterated rage, I'm going to hurt you…so very, very horribly.'

Oolong deemed 4 minutes a long enough awkward silence and quipped in with, "She was the one with the nice breasts…just thought I'd let you know."

* * *

_4 days previously_

Sitting round a large poker table in a palace in the middle of a large barren desert, were several very odd people. And by people, I mean that in the very broadest sense of the word. Fortune teller Baba's Poker nights were always a big deal to the inhabitants of her palace and any of her other acquaintances – they were high-stakes, high-alcohol and highly entertaining. The gamblers always kept their fingers crossed that Baba's brother, the Turtle Hermit, would make an appearance; as this always lead to a much more 'lively' game, full of sibling rivalry and dirty tricks. It also meant that Baba would be distracted with defeating her brother, rather than fully concentrating on taking everyone's money. As she always did. All of the time.

The previously mentioned odd people were arguing over who sat wear, trying to organise the seating so that the two elderly siblings faced each other. One large blue-skinned Demon pulled another chair to the table. A bandaged man looked at him quizzically. The demon, one Akkuman by name, simply glowered and shook his head, dissuading the other from any questioning. He was not going to have a good night.

One by one they all sat down; Akkuman (often known to his comrades as Spike), Bandages the Mummy, See-through (who incidentally had an excellent poker-face), Fangs the Vampire and waited for the others to arrive. A little pink ghost in a straw hat flitted about with a little tray of drinks, serving them to the gamblers who chatted amongst themselves – all except Akkuman, who looked extremely exasperated, and sat quietly with his drink. He'd need it. He was in for a very long night.

Eventually, everyone else arrived – a white cat and a short samurai on the chubby side, a pig in trousers and suspenders with an old man in a Hawaiian shirt and of course the Fortune teller Baba herself – and thus the game began. As you can imagine, there was much joking and drinking and a general good humour in the air that lightened up the mood considerably in comparison to just how seriously they were all playing. Nobody wanted to loose, especially to Baba. The raises kept getting higher and higher as the night went on, and by midnight, watches, rings and IOU's were to be found in the middle of the table.

Akkuman was getting tenser and tenser as he watched the clock. Baba looked up over her hand of cards, a wry smile etched on her lined face. She tapped the crystal ball hovering by her side (the others always hated this, but never said anything) and cackled.

"Expecting company Spike?"

He grumbled in reply. The others all turned and looked at him, raised eyebrows. He slumped back in his seat.

"My sister...has invited herself."

Korin chuckled and took a drink, "what's so bad about your sister joining in?"

The small vampire to his left shrugged, "His sister is great...she's a little crazy...but great."

The others all murmured their agreement. Akkuman groaned and turned to the tiny witch. "I have to apologise for my sister intruding. She's been hanging around me much more than usual."

Baba raised her eyebrows quizzically, he shrugged; "she's… been a little out of sorts for a while. Having …relationship problems. She's usually so together, I couldn't say no." he added uncomfortably.

The Oolong looked up from his cards. "Upset eh? Depressed and lonely and in need of comforting? Sure she can play, no problem, nothing better to get over heartache than a little companionship. There's a spare seat next to me-"

He fell immediately silent with a blistering glower from the witch, who then took a quick look down at the crystal ball and snorted, "Well she's almost here. You really should've warned her to put on a bigger shirt since Roshi's here."

The Turtle Hermit looked insulted, or what he thought was an insulted look in his current state of inebriation. To be honest the look was more one of indigestion than hurt.

* * *

Krillin pulled up a chair. Folded his arms and continued scowling, "get on with it"

"Okay okay" said Roshi, reaching for a seat for himself.

"No chair for you!"

* * *

When Akkuman's sister arrived, Oolong immediately knew she'd be trouble. The demon woman sauntered into the room, high heels clacking across the tiles. She was gorgeous, glamorous and exuded all the vibes of being a complete and utter mess. She had a large goofy grin plastered across her blue-skinned face and a swing in her Hartman-hips that implied she was in a very happy mood, but the mascara smudges under her eyes said otherwise.

"Bon journo boys! ...and Baba."

She slumped down onto the spare chair next to her brother and literally threw herself onto him, hugging him and subsequently planting a kiss on his cheek (much to his embarrassment).

"Get off me"

"Oh shut up," she caught sight of Baba, "Don't worry, I'm not here to spoil the game," she then proceeded to drop a large wad on zeni onto the table, she winked at See-Through, "business at the _Rakshasa_ has been good".

The old witch's eyes lit up. "I'll deal you in Majon dear."

Majon then began to simultaneously flirt with and terrify at the rest of the group. She was loud, she was talkative and (as Akkuman had predicted, much to his dismay) was desperate to glean some sympathy over her recent relationship trauma's.

The woman hadn't even started drinking when she began her tale of woe and missed anniversaries. The men at the table, thanks to both alcohol and the fact Majon was wearing a spectacularly small vest top, all did their best to be sympathetic and supportive. Baba remained quiet.

Majon raised the bet and Master Roshi folded, she regarded him for a moment, yellow eyes squinting. "I thought you'd be coming on to me by now, ma frère says you're a bit of a pervert." She picked up a card. The older man shrugged, "I usually am…"

"But...?"

"I would but..."

She raised a sharp eyebrow, "ah so you're a picky pervert?"

"You're blue."

"…so you're a racist pervert?"

"No! I mean…you're not my type! I mean you've got horns and wings and a tail – nothing good can come of tails! I know, I've seeeeeeen!"

"Wow. I'm insulted. I shouldn't be…in context…but I am."

As the night rolled on, the volume and intake of alcohol steadily rose until the room was filled up with slurred sentences, wild hand gestures, more costly gambles and choicer swearwords. Roshi was getting braver and Oolong was getting sleepier. Majon was getting both louder and visibly more upset (much to Baba's chagrin) with both the problems of her love life and her horrendous loosing streak. She threw down her hand of cards rather violently and reached for a nearly empty glass of water. Roshi had both seen enough of Bulma and Launch (and his dear old sister in their younger years) and their various romantic complications to know what was coming next, however drunk he may be.

"I – I mean I'm just sick. Sick and tired. Sooooo bloody sick and tired of men. Not human men, Demon men. Bastards! All of them. Not you Spike." (She pawed at her brother's face; he was unimpressed) "I'm sure you've met demons mister Roshi man (Roshi stared down into his drink and appeared to be having some sort of flashback)I mean my boyfr- EX boyfriend was a total prick. Seriously. Complete and utter bastardy bastard-face, he lied to me, took me for granted, treated me with NO respect. Wasn't he a dick, Spike?"

"He was. We all believe you, but –"

"Did I tell you he punched me?"

"What?! No. You didn't tell me!"

"Well he did. Don't worry. I punched him back. In the eye." (Her brother at this point looked both shocked and confused.) She huffed and downed the water "Urrrgh! Gawd demon men are just lying ignorant pig-headed arseholes! Give me a human man. A nice unassuming, (probably desperate) human boy to fuss over me and be so grateful I'm with them they'll do anything I want. I want someone for me to vent all of my frustration onto, to boss them about and break their heart. (She slammed her fist on the table) I want my turn as the selfish bitch! I just want my own nice, quiet affectionate guy to use and take for granted and maybe even love a little bit. Is that too much to ask for?"

"So you're saying that you want a punching bag who'll still treat you like a queen at the end of the day?"

"mmhmmm"

Oolong sniggered, "heh, I think I know just the guy."

Yajirobe just shook his head, "Crazy."

* * *

The night went on and the final game of the night was coming to a close. Only Baba and Korin left in it. Eventually though, something that had been said reappeared in Majon's mind. She turned to the shape shifter.

"You said you knew just the guy. Who? How is he just the guy?"

"Wha- Krillin? Oh, just really what you were describing: desperate, lonely, broken-hearted and probably more than willing to endure some bullying from you simply because you might hug him at the end of the day and you aren't a dude."

"Is he a nice guy?"

"Heh, yeah. One of the best. He's funny...and oddly clever. If a little short."

"He's short?"

"Very. And um, _shaven headed_."

"He's bald?... … … cute."

"What, really?"

"Yeah."

"You're an odd type of lady." He replied sleepily, resting his head in his hands.

Roshi cackled, and finished his beer, "Why, do you want him?"

His pig companion chuckled, eyes drooping.

Majon pondered this for a moment, "Yes. Alright. Go on then."

Baba grinned and passed her brother another drink.

"I was joking"

"I wasn't. I mean it, give him to me. He sounds like a nice guy. And you know what?"

"What?" murmured Oolong, his head nearly on the table.

"I think it's time I got up off my tail and started taking chances. Made more spur of the moment decisions"

Her brother stared at her, "buying a person is a bit more than just a spur of the moment deci-ow!"

Baba had hit him across the head, silencing him.

"I'm not going to buy him silly, I'm a fair person. I tell you what Master Mister Roshi-man. I'll play you for him. You bet Krillin and I'll bet this. I see you're out of cash anyway."

She pulled a huge clip of zeni notes out of thin air and placed it in the middle of the table, effectively ending the current game and starting a brand new, significantly more surreal one.

"You want Krillin as your pet boyfriend?" Slurred the Turtle Hermit. He thought of Krillin. He looked at his cash reserves. He looked at the now sleeping Oolong. He looked at the smiling but unfocused demoness. She was gorgeous and on the rebound - he was doing something nice for his friend! Said his inebriated brain. She's been playing terribly all evening anyway. You sir, are a genius.

He did not however, dear reader, stop to consider the fact that loosing to Majon meant that Krillin was essentially going to be _owned_ by a demon. And a not altogether together one at that.

Oh how the drunken mind works.

They shook on it. A promise was made. The hands were dealt, those not drunk enough to pass out from the task held their breath. Oolong snored. Majon grinned. "Oh Roshi, Roshi Roshi. I'll have to let you in on a little secret."

He looked up from his hand. "Ey?"

"I'm afraid that when it comes to cards – (dramatic pause) – I am not left-handed"

"huh?"

The demon woman shuffled the pack with amazing skill.

"You'll get it in a moment, Mr. Montoya."

* * *

_Righty ho. End of chapter One. This is my first fanfic, so any helpful input is appreciated. _

_50 points if you recognise the movie references. And I'm sorry about the invisible man/ poker face joke. It had to be done. _


	2. with a little help from my friends

_sorry it's taken a while. I get very easily distracted, especially by exams. But anyways... I digress.  
__I hope I'm not making anyone ooc, or have made too many grammatical/spelling mistakes. And as usual I am open to any constructive criticism. _

_ **Fools Fall In**: Chapter 2_

_"Something wicked this way comes." - Macbeth_

* * *

Oolong snorted and turned to the old man, "She actually made a Princess Bride joke?"

"She did...but I only got it after she beat me."

Then there was a long silence.

Krillin did not get angry often. He got frustrated. Upset; sometimes even hysterical. But he was definitely not an angry person. In this situation, however, he could be forgiven for feeling a little... annoyed.  
Upon discovering from his long time friend and mentor that he had essentially been _won _by some demon woman in a card game, three emotions found themselves at the forefront of his mind. The aforementioned anger at the fact he had been used as some sort of collateral by two of his best friends, that oh so familiar sense of dread he was well acquainted with over the fact an unfamiliar demon was involved, and a slightly odd sense of disbelief at the sheer absurdity of the situation.  
The whole incident was ridiculous.  
And of course it could only happen to him. And he just knew that it was going to be trouble.

The Turtle Hermit stood quietly, trying to gauge his young friend's reaction. Once he saw the initial shock and disbelief fade from the monks dark eyes, it pained him to see them narrow in anger. He knew Krillin was never really one to loose his temper, even after all he'd been through – and sure enough his countenance fell into an expression seen frequently on his face, a look of resignation. Roshi frowned, annoyed with himself. He'd fought with his conscience over the past few days, trying to convince himself at first that it hadn't happened, then attempting to figure out a way of either telling his friend or fixing the situation before he needed to tell him...before he saw the subtle sting of carelessness and betrayal in his young student that he had caused. He walked over to Krillin and placed a wrinkled hand on his shoulder, who without a word, patted it and smiled at the ancient hermit.

His shoulders shook as he broke into quiet nervous laughter.

"This is going to be an interesting week."

By later that night, Krillin had managed to do two things. He had phoned for backup and attempted to get all the information he could from Master Roshi and Oolong. Her name was Majon. She'd won the game; they'd shaken hands and declared it a promise. Baba had cackled manically. The demon woman had been attractive (or so they said anyway, despite having horns, wings and a tail.), foul-mouthed, a little bit unhinged and had taken great interest in Krillin himself. As Oolong had mentioned, "She didn't seem to mind when we mentioned you being bald. In fact it kinda spurred her on..." Krillin blinked and unconsciously ran his hand over his head. He hadn't shaved it in a couple of weeks and there was a thin layer of dark stubble there.

"Really?"

"Yeah... maybe it's easier for her to make a lamp out of your skin if your bald...you know your doomed right?"

"Oh yeah I know. I just wish I...I...oh!"

"What? Sekuppu?"

"I need to know how to get out of the clutches of a needy, emotionally distraught abandoned lover, don't I?"

"Yeah, so?"

"I need to talk to Bulma."

Another man's voice cut across the sniggering. "Oh that's hilarious Krillin."  
A tall dark-haired man was standing by the doorway, a small cat-like creature sitting on his shoulder. Shaking his head, Yamcha sauntered into the front room where his friends were gathered.

"I'm joking! I'm joking. I sensed you coming."

"Yeah, sure you did," He took a seat next to the monk, "You rang me earlier? You sounded odd... well... odder than usual. What's up...you okay?"

The pig groaned and rolled his eyes. He picked up a couple of magazines and wandered off, grumbling about hearing the story enough already. Yamcha raised his eyebrows.

Krillin slumped back into his chair, sighing, and proceeded, with help from Master Roshi (and the odd shouting clarification of detail from the kitchen) to explain the situation to Yamcha and Puar.  
Kami knew he was thankful for Yamcha coming round. He was one of Krillin's closest friends, and, despite his often slightly immature and flippant nature, was loyal and always there to help. He knew that his bandit friend would provide an extra opinion on the situation - a new, clear approach. Krillin knew that Yamcha being the first person he had contacted for advice had been the best thing to do.

His friend absorbed the information with a thoughtful look on his face. Krillin shrugged, indicating the end of his narration; Yamcha and Puar exchanged looks silently and for a fleeting moment, Krillin thought by the serious look their faces that they had the solution to his problem, that maybe he'd overlooked some vital piece of information. However, this faded swiftly as the man and shape-shifting cat both burst into raucous laughter.

Krillin scowled.

"Thank you for empathising. I can feel your love."

More laughter.

"Seriously guys. Unhelpful. It's not funny."

Yamcha recovered first, clutching his ribs, he chuckled at his shorter friend.

"Aww c'mon Krillin. It is pretty funny when you think about it. I mean who else but Master Roshi...and who else would this sort of thing happen to but you? You spend years desperately trying to keep hold of a woman and now you're trying to figure out how to get rid of one. Hurrhurrhurr."

"Oh ha ha. I'm glad someone sees the irony in this. I'm just a little busy with the fact that a demon owns me. I repeat. Owns me."

His taller friend sighed.

"Dude, I'm pretty sure you're taking this way to seriously."

"Demons ,Yamcha. Remember demons?"

The bandit flinched and leaned forward, his tone now quiet and thoughtful.

"Yes, Krillin, I remember demons...I remember what happened... but you...we can't afford to panic and let the situation get out of our control. Roshi said they were all drunk. She probably woke up the next morning and didn't even remember. How longs it been...3, 4 days? You'll be fine. Just ignore it. It'll be forgotten about, seriously bro."

"Ya think so?"

"Yeah, I think so"

Krillin nodded and folded his arms, taking this in. The two men sunk into a comfortable and thoughtful silence. Master Roshi, who has been listening and nodding along fervently for the entire conversation cleared his throat but before he could get a word in, Oolong leaned around the doorframe.

"I still think you guys should get a chick's opinion on this."

After Bulma had finished laughing her head off down the phone (the din complete with another voice in the background yelling at her to 'shut the hell up') at her unfortunate friend, and really thought about the situation, she appeared to be a lot more fearful than Yamcha and Master Roshi had been. In fact, Krillin mused, he could almost _hear_ her scowl.  
"I don't like this Krillin. You can't trust a word that comes out of a demon's mouth, we all know that. I mean sure I can understand from what you've told me that she's an emotional wreck – but surely that makes her all the more dangerous. If she's willing to do something so ...spontaneous, what else is she capable of? Krillin, you can't be too careful with this."

Her voice went down to a whisper (always an ominous sign where the lovely Miss Briefs was concerned), "I mean what sort of crazy ho-bag thinks she can just get a boyfriend by winning a card game?"

"Weren't you going to use the dragonballs to wish for –"

"IT'S NOT THE SAME THING."

"Okay, Okay," murmered Krillin, his head was starting to hurt. He needed to sort this out, "As a woman, a genius and probably as a relatively sane person: what do you think I should do?"

"Contact her."

Yamcha leaned over Krillin's shoulder, "Are you insane? I say ignore it."

Bulma screeched back, "Don't you try and undermine me, he was asking for my opinion, I say to get in contact and sort it out face to face, despite being a demonic psychopath, she's a woman getting over a bad breakup; she won't appreciate you ignoring her. It's more dangerous to you if you do!" The monk was simply holding the receiver up in front of his friend now.

"Yeah, but if he just turns up and dumps her, the 'demonic psychopath getting over a bad breakup' is going to kill him, I mean we don't even know how powerful a demon she is, and even if she's weak... it's Krillin."

"_Hey._"

"Sorry bro. Bulma has got a point, but I say don't make the first move if you may not have to make a move at all."

Bulma sighed heavily on the other end of the phone. Damn man-logic. The blue-haired woman winced at the sound of crying coming from down the hall, perfect timing as per usual Trunks.

"Krillin, it's really up to you. I'm here if you need anything, I have to go, the baby's awake. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

_CLICK._

He was no further forward in a stupid, yet potentially dangerous situation. _I don't think I can stand any more of this today_.

Letting out a groan of frustration, the monk set down the receiver and flopped onto the settee face-down. And that was how he stayed for the next half hour until; of course, his moment of peace was shattered by Puar shrieking loudly and Yamcha subsequently joining in upon being roused from his state of half-sleep on one of the chairs.  
The smaller man looked up towards where the cat was frantically gesturing to see a small black mass with red eyes floating above him. Mere inches away.  
He yelped and rolled off the settee onto the floor with a thud. The _thing, _seemingly made out of smoke, flittered down until it was right in front of him, and proceeded to take a more tangible form. It was making a humming noise as it hovered, and grew a number of little stubby limbs which it then used to make a landing on the floor in front of Krillin's outstretched legs. The cat and bandit had gone silent, watching the little black creature wide-eyed. It did nothing for a moment or two before opening what must have been its mouth extremely widely; making coughing noises it then started vomiting up something rectangular and thin. Spitting it on the floor at his feet, the little thing looked at the Monk for a moment, blinked and then exploded in a puff of smoke and a substance that vaguely resembled motor oil.  
_Well_, thought Krillin. _That was odd._

He stood up and backed away from the object on the floor.

"What is that?"

He eyed it warily. Yamcha picked up the first thing he could lay his hands on (a spoon) and prodded the offending object. "It's an envelope."

Satisfied it wasn't going to explode; he picked it up and opened it.

"It looks like a letter, no, scratch that, it's an invitation." Puar hovered over his shoulder, reading the writing out loud.  
"_Krillin,  
__I've assumed that by now you've been made aware of the bet that was made to me on the night of the 25__th__ of June by your (may I say, quite irresponsible) friend __Mister__ Master Roshi. So, I would like to invite you to discuss it further, and of course get more acquainted, at the __**Rakshasa**__ on Thursday at 9pm. Directions are provided, as well a VIP pass for you plus one.  
__Be seeing you soon.  
__Majon xx." _

"So...yeah. She remembers."  
Krillin scowled at the taller man.

"Where the hell is the _Rakshasa? _I'm sure I've heard of it before..."

"I think I've heard of it too... it might be a hotel, or a bar or something." He studied the invitation a little harder, "Shit dude, she put kisses at the bottom...Oh wait, it's only two though. You're ok for now. Don't look at me like that; reading between the lines and decoding the hidden signs in messages from women is an art form. One X is friend. Two X's is a slight hint at more than friendship and three X's is a relationship."

"I suppose you really have to learn to rely on messages and notes when the most you can say to a woman is flmmuanffmmmnff. Huh?"

"Yup."

The two men sat down heavily on the sofa, staring at the wall in front of them intently, as if hoping it would provide them with a solution. It was Tuesday night. Just a day and a bit to put together some semblance of a plan, or even plea. Yamcha wrinkled his nose and turned to his friend, "I'll come with you."

Krillin looked up at him, the leaden feeling in his stomach fading just a little.

"I think it would be better if I went then if you took Master Roshi...or Bulma...especially if she's right about the whole 'woman scorned' thing. Bringing a woman might antagonize her. Plus, taking a guy as your 'plus-one' might make her think twice." He wiggled his eyebrows at his bald companion.

Krillin laughed and shook his head, "I suppose, but it still doesn't stop her falling for my charismatic personality and devilish good looks. Male plus-one or not." He licked a finger and straightened an eyebrow. His good humour slowly returning to him.  
Yamcha snorted, absently scratching behind Puar's ears as she settled on his lap.

"We could always just give her Tien. Though we'd probably have to drug him first..."

"Haha."

"Krillin. Yamcha."

They turned to see Master Roshi standing behind the settee in his usual pose, a hand on his stick and the other behind his back. His sunglasses caught the sunlight as he continued, "I think you should take Piccolo with you."

Both of the younger men exchanged nervous glances. The big namek had all but officially become one of the gang during their last big incident, and although they for the most part trusted him and valued his input during times of crisis, they were still rather wary of him. He was bad tempered, introverted and unsociable (they had _tried _to be friendlier with him, Krillin especially_, _they'd even tried using Gohan as a sort of buffer zone, but he had mostly stayed as aloof as ever).

"I mean," continued the old man, "that since neither of you know much about demons...and since his is, was, a demon...it would be sensible to take him along."

Krillin groaned. He couldn't fault that logic.

"No."

"But...but Mr. Piccolo, he need's your help! It could get dangerous."

Son Gohan was hovering in front of his sensei. Krillin was still on the ground by the side of the waterfall, thinking it better to let the 12 year old alone as he worked his magic on his stubborn friend. Krillin had explained his situation to the man, who had simply scowled at him, and scowled harder still when he had asked him to come to the _Rakshasa _with himself and Yamcha. He had told the monk to both get lost and to sort out his own damn problems. Krillin had suspected he would and so had brought the only person capable of getting Piccolo to do anything. Gohan.

"You'd help if it was me."

"_You _wouldn't have gotten yourself into such a ridiculous situation." He shot a glare at the man on the ground.

"It wasn't his fault. C'mon, please Mr. Piccolo. Just this once, then I'm sure he won't ask any more favours from you! Will you Krillin?"

"No! No more bothering Piccolo, I swear on my um... honour as a... um...martial... artist."

The large namek rolled his eyes and regarded Krillin for a moment, as if weighing out his options over what would be more tiresome; getting involved with the human's latest buffoonery or the kid getting upset with him if he didn't._ Hmph_.

Gohan saw this silence as a good sign and proceeded to try and seal the deal. He gave his best friend and teacher the saddest puppy dog eyes he could make.  
Piccolo growled.

"Damn it kid. You can't just pull that face ever time-"

The boy's dark eyes got a little bigger.

"-stop that! You're nearly a te-"

His lip quivered slightly.

Piccolo swore under his breath in some strange language Gohan couldn't understand.

"Fine. FINE. But you can't use The Face again for a whole year."

The boy whooped and flew down to Krillin, who looked decidedly relieved.

"Thanks Piccolo! See ya tomorrow."

_Feh. _A green hand covered his eyes as he pondered what he'd gotten himself into. _Demon women, midgets and puppy dog eyes – what a charmed life he did lead._

* * *

So yeah. Hope that wasnt completely shit.  
I'm still not completely sure whay to write at the bottom, so I'll just go with - A) I hope people found the humour humorous. B) feel free to ask any questions.

I appreciate feedback, and hope people are enjoying the story so far.

chapter 3 will come soon...ish.


	3. okay, time for plan B

**Insert obligatory diclaimer here. Hope you like this chapter, sorry it took so long. **

**Chapter 3  
Otherwise entitled: Okay, time for plan B.**

**_"_**

_She's a killer Queen  
Gunpowder, Gelatine -  
Dynamite with a laser beam,  
Guaranteed to blow your mind -anytime." - Queen._

_

* * *

_

Standing outside the _Rakshasa,_ (newly revealed to be a nightclub) Krillin mused that bringing Piccolo along was probably not the best idea. The namek was already quite obviously not pleased to have gotten involved with the whole mess in the first place, so spending however long in a club filled to the brim with people and loud music wasn't going to improve his mood in the slightest.

From what clientele Krillin could see lined up by the doors, it was probably a club that catered almost exclusively to Demon-folk. He suppressed a shudder.

_Oh kami_, thought Krillin, this was going to be interesting... to say the least. He didn't like demons. At all. And there were going to be lots of them. He cringed.

Yamcha was standing next to him; letting out a whistle as he eyed up the line. Turning to his short friend, he nodded his head at the doors, "Might as well head on in."

Krillin looked doubtful and fiddled with the buttons on his shirt. He'd made a bit of an effort, but he wasn't quite sure why.

"Piccolo?"

His only reply was a low _hmph_ as the huge namek stalked straight past him towards the entrance. Yamcha followed him. Krillin let out a sigh.

"I guess that's a yes then."

The bouncer at the door was a huge demon resembling a dragon, and he glared over his sunglasses at the two men before him. Pulling out a clipboard, he tapped it with a tattooed knuckle, and in response Krillin held up his VIP pass trying his best not to look terrified. The bouncer's ugly face scrunched up as he scrutinised it and shaking his head, he moved aside to let the tiny man past, only to bar Yamcha's path.

"I...I'm his plus one."

The bouncer looked at Krillin who nodded vigorously. Scowling at Yamcha, he begrudgingly let him past, and turned his attention to the third member of this little party.

"It was only a plus one, unless your name's on the list-", both his confidence and sentence faltered as he found himself looking up at Piccolo. Turning an odd shade of grey, the demon bouncer all but dove out of the namek's way. Krillin and Yamcha watched, confused as to whether they should be impressed or terrified at the sight of the huge doorman profusely apologising for his manner of address and actually bowing as Piccolo glided past him. They stared at their companion as he caught up to them.

"Dude, I think you made him wet himself... why did he bow, anyway?"

"I'm the Demon King, remember?"

"Ah."

"So were you on the list?" Krillin grinned inanely.

Piccolo rolled his eyes and grumbled, "Let's just get on with this."

As the namek walked ahead, Krillin nudged his human companion, "No list can stop Piccolo."

The _Rakshasa _wasn't a full as Krillin had expected, but there were still enough demons (and a whole host of other rather questionable clientele who could vaguely be categorized as 'creatures of the night') to give him the creeps. The decor was modern and sharp, but dark and quite distinctly gothic in style; there were two rooms, the upstairs abundant in sitting areas (tables, sofa's and booth's) and a large bar running the length of the wall manned by human looking bar-staff. A large staircase led downstairs to a huge dance floor. What seemed to strike him the most about the place was that the heavy rock music being played was not deafening to the point it was in human bars and clubs he'd been to, but at a comfortable volume, easy enough to talk over. What he then found most striking was a horrifically familiar kanji on a banner on the wall above the bar. He shuddered. Precisely the reason demon's scared him so much in the first place. Resisting the urge to sneak a look at Piccolo to see if he'd noticed the symbol too, Krillin claimed a booth further to the back of the club and settled himself.

Piccolo followed him silently, assessing the area and the crowd. Some strong power levels, but nothing he couldn't handle (even if they were suppressing their ki), nothing, he concluded, that the two humans would have too much trouble with, despite both of them admitting to not having trained properly since Cell was defeated.

It was then Yamcha turned to Krillin, with the notion of offering to buy a round of drinks (did Piccolo even drink? Scotch. Maybe Whisky. Vodka. A Dry Martini shaken n- no. Let's not go there). When he had left them, Krillin took a deep breathe and scanned the room warily; he was looking for a blue demon woman with horns, wings and a tail in a room full of colourful demons with horns, wings and tails.

He put his head in his hands.

_Look's like she'll be coming to me._

_

* * *

_

Dear lord, thought Majon, as she saw Krillin and his companions enter the room, they really weren't kidding when they said he was short. Standing at about 6 foot, she was used towering over most men – but this was ridiculous. She was by the door behind the bar, chatting to a couple of other demon-women, and wouldn't have noticed him at all if it hadn't been for her friends turning round and gawping at his tallest companion. ("Dibbs!" shouted a curvy lilac demon, raising a hand as if she were in a classroom. Her companions broke into hysterical laughter, "You can't just dibbs!"

"Of course I can – look at those jeans! HAVE MERCY!")

Majon frowned. She was old enough to know who he was, and what he was capable of. But when she noticed the two distinctly uncomfortable looking human men sticking close by him, she realised why he was here and a little flame of annoyance flickered to life inside of her.

Thought he could weasel his way out by hiding behind the Demon King did he?

Well. The demoness smoothed down her vivid pink dress; a smirk playing on her lips. We'll soon see about that.

Leaving the gaggle of demon-women to giggle, she sailed past the bar, turning only to tell the human shaped woman serving drinks to pass her a glass of water.

The cold-eyed barmaid did just that.

* * *

Yamcha leaned against the bar waiting for the drinks, hoping he didn't look as uncomfortable as he felt. He and Krillin weren't the only humans in the _Rakshasa, _but he concluded that they were by far the most savory characters.

The bar staff seemed to be human. Well. Two of them at least, girls decided, since he could only see the backs of their heads. A blonde and a...brunette? He couldn't tell. The lighting was terrible. He looked back to where Krillin and Piccolo were sat at a booth in the corner. The monk looked nervous and the namek, as per usual, had his arms folded and his eyes closed, that semi-permanent frown etched on his face. Yamcha sighed. It was going to be a very long night, regardless of the four bottles of beer he had purchased: an extra for Krillin, he needed it. Piccolo had given him a blank look and had shrugged, so he had taken that as a "get me anything". He had eyed up the most feminine cocktails, but figured that would inevitably lead to a painful death – so beer it was.

When he saw Krillin's turn an odd shade of white, then suddenly bright scarlet, which heralded Majon's arrival to the table; Yamcha saw full well just how arduous a night this was going to be.

* * *

A demoness was striding towards them, cerise dress clinging to her rather sizable hips. Blue as the summer sky with hair that was either white or heavily bleached, Majon, sister of Akkuman cut an impressive sight, feminine and sharp but sturdy and full. All woman. All demon. Trouble.

"Ooooh crap."

"You got that right."

Krillin gave Piccolo an odd look. Maybe he hadn't realised he'd said that. Maybe he hadn't realised that the tips of his ears had gone slightly purple.

"Bon journo sweetie, Ma Junior." She nodded to them both, holding Krillin's gaze for a millisecond too long, making him blush. From behind her, a burly demon pulled up a chair and she made herself comfortable.

"So, how do you boys like the _Rakshasa_?"

* * *

"I see she has a new victim."

Yamcha heard the clink of bottles behind him and a man's voice.

"That'll be 12 zeni 50." The barman purred, youthful tone dripping with boredom.

One moment, the bandit was worrying about Krillin and his insane 'romantic' predicament – the next moment, as he turned and found himself staring into frosty blue eyes he recognised all too well, he started to worry about something very different.

"Shā Yamcha," a cold smile spread across his lips, the bandit gulped.

Yamcha neither moved nor replied, he simply stared at Android 17 dumbly, several choice swearwords repeating themselves in rapid succession through his mind.

"12 zeni 50." He slammed the money down. Still silent. Still with the expression of a deer caught in headlights.

"Wha...wait... what are you doing here?" _Was he robbing the place? Just toying with the punters before he blew the bar to kingdom come? Dammit dammit dammit! There's no way I can-_

"I work here."

"...Really?" Yamcha was very aware that he was starting to edge away from the bar. The android had noticed too.

"Don't you want your drinks?"

"Why, what have you done to them?" he demanded, old habit of shouting rather than speaking when he was scared returning to him very quickly. 17 simply rolled his eyes and moved away to the other end of the bar.

A rather unsettled Yamcha quickly retrieved the drinks and walked away from the bar as quickly as he could without breaking into a run. What. The. Hell.

So Android 17 is working in a bar for demons. Faaaaaaaaantastic. He risked a look around and saw the dark haired cyborg staring right back, drying a glass like a bartender from a saloon. He gave the bandit a little wave before looking down below the bar-top and saying something to whoever the hell was behind it.

Yamcha simply spun back around and rushed back to the booth where Krillin, Piccolo and a leggy demon woman were holding a discussion. He slammed the drinks down, sat down in the corner next to Krillin and proceeded to have a tiny silent panic attack.

The other three seated around the table simply shrugged, then got back to business.

"So what your saying, Krillin, is that you are _declining_ to agree to your side of the arrangement?"

"Well, uh, um..." he scratched behind his ears, blushing. She seemed very nice – asked how they were, made some small talk – but when he'd tried to say his bit, he saw her shoulders slump a little, and her smile fade. He never liked to make anyone unhappy if he could help it, especially women.

"Miss Majon, it's just that Master Roshi made the bet when he was drunk, I had no idea and didn't agree to anything. So I guess that kinda makes it... invalid...so..." _Be brave Krillin_, "I won't be taking part in it." He said firmly, sitting up straight. Piccolo raised an eyebrow at him.

To both of their surprise, the demoness started chuckling.

Oh that was never a good sign.

"You do realise that since that Roshi guy is you're Martial Arts Master, that he can palm you off to anyone he wants."

The small monk had an answer prepared for this notion.

"I retired from fighting earlier this year." He sat back and folded his arms. She looked at him curiously. Had he won this one? Yamcha was tugging on his sleeve. He waved him off.

"Okay. I can appreciate that. I can also appreciate that you want nothing to do with a girl like me –"

"Well I didn't mean it like th-"

"Of course you did. From what I can gather, any other woman who won you in a bet would have trouble getting rid of you. _I _come along (make a somewhat rash decision I know) and suddenly you have to decline..."

"It's not that, I'm sure you're a lovely woman! I've just got a problem with actually being won and owned! I mean why do you want a uh..."

"Pet boyfriend."

"Pet boyfriend anyway? You don't even know me and do you really think this is the adult way of solving your problems and... wait, what the hell is a pet boyfriend?"

The blue demoness shook her head, a sad smile reaching her lips. Silly man.

"I am well aware that this isn't the most sensible thing, but I'm afraid that you won't be able to decline. This is non-negotiable. Tell him Sir."

Piccolo frowned.

"Tell him what?" he growled.

"Oh of course, you don't have much dealings with the demon-folk any more, do you?"

He remained silent. Krillin simply looked between the two. What the hell was she talking about?

"A Demon Promise was made over it."

The monk blinked. "A what?"

His taller friend groaned and scowled. Genetic memory had told him about Demon Promises.

Majon turned to her overly confused 'victim'.

"You see my little man, as I'm sure you're friend here is well aware, a Demon Promise means everything. We're lying, cheating, back-stabbing immoral fiends, but when we make a promise we seal it with our blood, we are held to it and those who make the promise with us are held to it. You can huff and puff and blackmail and threaten and even get him to try and kill me if you like, in order to free yourself... but I'm sure you know the fate of those unreleased from a demon pact. It's not pretty." She smiled a thin-lipped smile that didn't quite show in her eyes, "They become cursed. Endure a painful natural death and then limbo, for all eternity. Harsh, but that's old demon magic for you. Superhappyfuntimes." She turned away from him towards Piccolo, "He's fucked if he doesn't comply... but I suppose he's fucked if he does... but the latter experience will be exponentially more enjoyable for him, I'm sure." (She grinned as Krillin choked on his drink, bright red)

"One of the main reasons that human-folk dislike we demons, is not just because we're malicious and destructive, but the fact that we're down-right _messy _to get involved with. Now, I know that I shouldn't have shaken on it. Promised. Made a pact, a vow, whatever you want to call it, I'll admit that was mostly my bad, because now I've trapped us both. As a demon I'm bound to my word, if I die with a broken pact under my belt, I share the same fate as you would, and quite frankly I don't want that. So I think we should give this a go, I mean it could be worse."(she winked at him) "I can't declare the promise fulfilled until it _is... _or I could get some magical help beyond my own ability... but I'm not going to. Because quite frankly, I don't give a flying fuck if you don't think this is fair. I'm sick of never getting my own way and working around other people." She stood up, knocking the chair beneath her over, "I'm a fucking demon for fuck's sake, I live to spread misery for my own selfish reasons, so suck it up and take it like a man! God, you'd think I was the fucking Demon King himself by the way your acting (no offense) and I don't like it, I AM A LOVELY. FUCKING. PERSON!"

She banged her hands on the table on that last sentence, scowling. In a split second Majon straightened up, moved her fringe out of her eyes and pulling her chair back up, she sat down quietly and serenely, smiling sweetly at the two men.

Piccolo's voiced appeared in the back of Krillin's head, _The woman's clearly insane. _

_Oh Kami, she is isn't she? Absolutely freaking nuts...should...should I just run now?_

_Don't be an imbecile. She's insane, not stupid. She's completely right about the rules surrounding demon promises. You'll have to find a loophole. Or just go through with it. _

"So you can't decline. Pack your bags shorty, I'll be seeing you on Monday."

"_Krillin."_

"Not now Yamcha." Came Piccolo's stern voice from across the table, "What do you mean, 'pack your bags'?"

"Well I only really come up here to check on the bar. I live in the Demon Realm most of the time."

As the monk made a small whimpering sound, Piccolo felt a flash of brilliance pop into his head. He had only really the vaguest grasp of the concept of couples and relationships, but he was going to try anyway.

"So you want him to live with you?"

"Mmmhmm." Majon looked decidedly comfortable now, leaning back in her chair, drinking her water.

"You want a complete stranger to live with you?"

"What's your point?"

Krillin looked up at the namek.

"I have a proposition for you."

"...go on."

"Give yourself about six months to get to know each other. Let the human adjust. Let you really know what you've gotten yourself into. I'm no expert, but it seems idiotic to throw yourselves together when you know nothing about each other."

Majon narrowed her eyes at him. The ex-demon king made a fair point. _Gawd knows, maybe that's where I went wrong in the past. Too serious too soon..._

Six months would be too long though.

"Two months."

"Three."

"Deal." She drained her glass and held out a hand, "He has three months to sort himself out and for us to get to know each other better. Then he's mine completely."

Piccolo did not take her hand.

Krillin was white as a sheet. He was still reeling from the exposition on what would happen to him if he tried to wheedle his way out. What was Piccolo thinking? Surely this was just prolonging the pain-oh.

Piccolo was buying him time.

Find a loophole Krillin. If there's a way to escape from anything Krillin, you're the one to find it.

Go Krillin go.

"Krillin." Majon's voice had taken on a sultry tone. She was smiling again, but this one was genuine. Boy was this woman confusing.

"It'll be fine. I'll see you next week. We've got a lot of catching up to do."

Getting up from her chair, the curvaceous demon woman turned to someone on her right and handed them a set of keys, mumbling something in another language. She turned back to three men sitting at the booth, beers hardly touched.

"I think first impressions are very important, don't you? I have to say, before I go, that I've picked up on something that you might want to work on. Krillin, you haven't as of yet, earned my respect. You've come across as quite cowardly. Hiding behind the Prince of Darkness is not an attractive trait. So I'll let you think about that." Her voice grew cold,"And let's not even get into the fact that I think you brought him along to intimidate me. I do not appreciate that at all. If you think you'll get anywhere with me if you flex your muscles and threaten...your sadly mistaken. I am not to be underestimated. Goodnight."

And with that, she spun on her heels and walked off, leaving the men rather speechless.

Yamcha was the first to say anything. "She thinks we were threatening her?"

More silence.

"Krillin. Now will you listen to me?"

"Oh I'm sorry Yamcha. Have I been ignoring you? I was just busy having my life turned upside down. Do go on!"

Piccolo's stern baritone sailed over the top of Krillin's slight hysterical burst.

"I suggest you calm down."

The shortest man sighed wearily. "I suggest we leave. I just want to go home and put my head in the oven."

"KRILLIN!" Yamcha grabbed him by his collar, "For Kami's sake, I've been trying to tell you all evening!"

"Tell me what?"

* * *

Most of the _Rakshasa's_ clientele had left by the time 17 noticed Majon stalking away from the booth and towards a table close to the bar. Sitting at said table was a large group of rather surly looking demons. These were her bodyguards. Her bouncers, doormen, security guards and old friends who simply liked to cause trouble. If the android had understood the language in which she spoke to the group, he would have heard her say:

"Show them out. As roughly as you want."

His employer took one last look at the booth where her 'victims' were occupied with arguing amongst themselves, the dark-haired man shaking the smaller one, and strode out of the back door behind the bar.

17 turned to his twin sister, who was cleaning the bar-top.

"Let's put the bottles away, I sense a fight scene coming on."

* * *

_**hope that wasnt too horrendous. again, any reviews/constructive criticism are a great help.**_

xxx****


	4. no more eatin' for them now

_Hello again folks, I know this one took a while... I hope 17 and 18 arent too outofcharacter, I'm trying to portray them right... so here's hoping. __And as usual I am open to any constructive criticism. _

_And if it makes anyone happy, here's the link to a picture I've done of 18, Krillin and Majon. Just in case anyone wanted to see how she looks in my head..._

_(www.) goffietwerb. deviantart .com/art/Fools-fall-in-180152874 ...so yeah. (I'm actually better artist than a writer...) cant figure out how to link... so it's that without the spaces..._

**Fools Fall In - Chapter 4**

_Yeah, Yeah, Yeah-Yeah-Yeah_  
_And the man in the back said everyone attack_  
_And it turned into a ballroom blitz_  
_And the girl in the corner said boy I want to warn you _  
_It'll turn into a ballroom blitz _  
_Ballroom blitz - The Sweet_

* * *

When 18 had woken up that morning, and rolled out the sleeping bag on the floor of the van she was calling home – there was nothing that forewarned her that this was going to be a one of those days. One of those annoying, hectic and somewhat pivotal days that tripped you up and knocked you on your arse. She did not like them.

She had not particularly wanted to be living in an old camper-van. This of course, was her brother's idea. Stay on the road. Travel wherever the wind may take us. Drive at ridiculous speeds in a wreck that had obviously seen better days when you can just as easily fly around. Idiot. Damn persuasive git. He'd come up with these stupid ideas, but with reasons and explanations she couldn't find fault with. Only his twin could put up with this rubbish and not try and kill him. Well. That often anyway.

She could hear traffic outside and her brother rattling about in the teeny kitchen area, probably making toast. His speciality. She was still in yesterday's clothes. Eurgh. She needed a shower. Badly. The one inside the bathroom forwardslash cupboard in their stolen campervan was never in the mood work properly, attacking her systematically with freezing water, but she'd happily brave it instead of going for her brother's approach; which consisted of sitting in a child's paddling pool full of hot water outside the van, happily reading a magazine, cowboy boots and orange scarf still on.

"What time is it?"

"11am."

"What time are we at work?"

"9pm. If we show up."

"We are _going_ to show up, 17."

"Hmph."

Ah the straight and narrow. Her twin was obviously having more trouble adjusting to it than herself, but she didn't care. She'd never truly enjoyed the mayhem – that was his department. She just wanted a place to sleep, the odd new pair of shoes and (for the love of god) a working shower without attracting too much unwanted attention. And if holding down a job would get her that, then so be it. She simply couldn't be bothered with it. Yes a job was boring and so pathetically human – but it was, to be totally honest, a welcomed piece of... stability in an otherwise chaotic existence.

They had found the job advertised in a rather odd magazine ("that woman on the cover has an awful lot of tattoo's...") left in their dilapidated campervan. It was a pretty decent job. Just bar work, and the _Rakshasa_ paid alright, the only thing that she wasn't to keen on was the owner, some fluffy-haired demon woman who was far too loud for her own good, usually found hanging on the arm of that huge lug of a boyfriend of hers.  
Anyway. It kept her occupied. Kept her hands away from blowing things up. Her thoughts away from all the trouble they had endured only a few months ago. And since it kept her brother busy and not attracting the attention of the Golden-Boy-Wonder with his little Scooby gang –it was allll good.

* * *

"We're not parking here."

"Why not?"

"You're seriously going to park a van with all out belongings in and questionable locks directly outside the front entrance of a Demon-and-other-shady-characters nightclub?"

"Should I park it round the back?"

"Park it round the back."

"That's what she-"

"Finish that sentence and I'll set fire to your face."

And so their shift began. Nothing out of the ordinary. The punters still leered at her. Her brother still found new and interesting ways to frustrate her. She'd always been the one of the two more likely to keep their cool, but lately she found she'd been losing her temper more and more often. And that unsettled her a little.

Nights like these were usually not too busy, so 18 mostly busied herself in the washing up area behind the bar, occasionally bringing barrels through from outside for most of her shift. Hours passed, and by the end of the night she noticed 17 had been amusing himself with something, that evil glint lighting up in his eyes, usually so devoid of life.  
_He looks almost_... she shook the idea away. _No. I'm not going down that road of thought again. _

She looked at her watch. Midnight. Already almost everyone had left, apart from a group of regulars (her boss's friends and minions she reckoned), some drunkards and a couple of stragglers in the corner being obnoxiously loud. She wasn't really paying attention. She still had a few hours left until her shift ended; most of the other bar staff had gone home.  
Ugh, they were being loud in the corner. Maybe she shouldn't have gotten a job in a nightclub if she hated drunkards so much.  
Glancing up from a tray of glasses, she saw Majon leave. She also saw the large group of demon-folk start to get up from their table, their attention focused on where all the noise was coming from. She was dimly aware of some knuckle cracking and dark chuckles; claws were being unsheathed and hackles were rising. 18 felt her brother's cool hand on her arm.

"Didn't you hear what I said? There's going to be trouble. If we put the bottles away now we can watch the fight _and_ we won't have to clean up too much mess."

"Huh, what? A fight?"

He brother was preoccupied with rushing round the room at super-human speed collecting in bottles. Clearing up smashed glass in the early hours of the morning was not something he relished doing. Besides. This way he was free to enjoy the show. His sister simply rolled her eyes and moved the tip-jar off the bar-counter; if there was going to be one of those ridiculously clichéd brawls then she knew that was the first thing that was going to be smashed off someone's head.

Then she heard a man's voice cut through the music and the sound of chairs being pushed aside.  
An all too familiar man's voice.  
Bugger.

* * *

"Tell me what? Tell me what Yamcha?"

Yamcha did not answer, but instead was looking up at Piccolo, who was staring intently at something behind them both. Spinning round, both humans turned and saw what could only truly be described as a 'posse' of demons moving slowly and threateningly towards them. The demons were varied in size and shape, varied in ki too from what our heroes could sense, but all bore the same countenance of menace. All three tensed up.

"Oh great. What do they want."

"You really can't tell Yamcha?"

"They want to kick our asses don't they?"

"Yup... You think we should just ... you know...scarper?"

The monk saw a smirk form on Piccolo's face. "Not a chance in hell. We can take care of them first. They're hardly a match for even you Krillin. Besides, you two need the practice."

"Thanks for that."

"Okay that is the second time someb-"

"Shush."

They turned to face their soon to be opponents. Sleeves were rolled up and knuckles cracked. _At last_, thought the ex-demon king, _I might have a decent night after all.  
_Krillin could see in his friend's face that he was going to fight, and nothing either of the humans said was going to stop him. Made sense, he doubted the namek had been in fight since the Cell juniors – and even though Kami's influence had certainly mellowed him a bit – he was still first and foremost a warrior. Oh well. At least they'd end the night in style.  
Unless the demons were hiding their power levels, it would be a scrap as opposed to a battle. But the men were wary; nothing could be taken for granted when fighting demons. Nothing.

One of the largest demons, apparently the self-appointed spokesperson bellowed towards the smaller group.  
"You think you can mess with one of us and get away with all your limbs? Think again ladies. Majon asked us to take out the rubbish – (he cracked his jaw in a quite disturbing manner, rows of razor-sharp teeth glinting in the low light) – who's first?"

He looked somewhat taken aback when the three z-senshi started sniggering.

"That's some fabulous trash-talk you've got there. We're not at all embarrassed for you."

One of his more lean companions snarled and stepped forward, "Katya man, I think ee's takin' thuh piss lyke. Twat 'im."

After this individual had gotten an odd look from him, mostly due to the fact he had no idea what he'd just said, Krillin held up his hands and in a calm and reasonable tone, asked the demons if they'd just let them leave quietly.

He was promptly told to fuck off.

* * *

"Well at least he tried."

"What is he doing here?"

"I have no idea. Honestly I don't care. As long as they put on a good show."

18 swore under her breath. 17 sat himself on the bar-top. They both watched.

* * *

There was a Mexican standoff, for want of a better analogy.

Suddenly, the writer switches to present tense. It's all very dramatic. Something is about to go down.

Fighting stances are taken, fists are clenched. The lights seem to dim and spotlight the opponents. Oddly appropriate music suddenly starts playing as everyone takes their places, ready, poised and wound up like springs. One of the largest demons makes a move towards Yamcha and the fight begins.

And now the writer switches back to past tense because she realises she can't write very well like this.

A huge right-hook aimed at the bandit's face was dodged and countered with an elbow to the gut. Krillin and Piccolo both sailed past their comrade to join the fray and were met with a volley of kicks, punches and a few weak energy balls which were easily blocked. Quickly and predictably, Piccolo took charge.

"You take those four, Yamcha – those 3 are yours. I'll take the rest."

"Gosh, you're so kind." replied his tiny comrade, deftly fending off an enemy lunging at him with a broken bottle. One quick manoeuvre involving the dislocating of shoulders was employed, and thus the threat swiftly ended. Though the demons were relatively powerful, they were neither well-trained nor seemed to have the ability to work as a team. Sure there were energy-based attacks, but they were weak and showy if anything.

("Why don't they just blow them all up?"

"No idea. Maybe they don't want a body count? You know, since they're supposed to be the good guys and all – OOOOO! KICK HIM! KICK HIM IN HIS FACE!"

"Just stupid if you ask me."

"Nobody was - OW!")

Right punch. Left kick. Dodge claws. Knee to the stomach, spinning hammerfist, shuuto, rising block. He held back the attacks of three demons all twice his size; over and over, as if he were repeating the same moves again and again in some strange eternal loop - the universe reusing frames to save money.  
Or something.  
He did not see one bulky demon's crocodile-like tail coming, however, and next thing he knew he was on his back with a foot about to stamp down on his face.

"Oh crap."

SMACK!  
The foot hit the hard floor as Krillin swiftly rolled out of the way, only to find he'd rolled into the back of Yamcha's legs, knocking his friend completely off his feet.

"Argh!"

"Ow!"

"What the hell are you two doing?"

("They're not doing very well are they?")

Within a moment, both men were up on they're feet – back to back; kicking proverbial ass. In fact, just as Krillin was about to make some sort of humorous comment about how well they were doing, and how easy this all was, a fist connected with his face and he was sent flying backwards through the air.

Piccolo barely noticed his friend fly past him as he kneed an orange, rather spiky foe in the gut. Snap kick. Thrust kick. Roundhouse kick. Even a headbutt thrown in for good measure; he had to admit, he was rather enjoying himself... and of course causing far more wanton destruction than he really should.  
After knocking one of the demons completely out cold with a roundhouse kick and knocking another back, he proceeded to do something which was very unlike him, which he would later blame on Gohan and Dende coercing him into watching films with them. He picked up a chair and smashed his opponent in the head with it.  
This earned him a cheer from across the room. 17 awarded him 10 points. 18 scowled at him, 17 was obviously enjoying himself. The bastardy-bastard-face.  
The blonde android dodged as a bottle flew past her face and smashed into the wall behind her. _This,_ she thought to herself, _is getting slightly out of hand.  
_She quietly watched the scene unfold; the demons were seconds away from defeat, each one being felled quite easily by the three men. As per what was expected. She'd seen them fight, she had the files. This was an easy victory by the looks of things – so why were they taking so long? Piccolo himself could've finished them all in under a minute with a well placed ki beam. As she watched Krillin collide with a wall on the far side of the room, she could've sworn she'd seen a small grin on his (stupid, stupid) face as he catapulted back into the fray, taking out the lean oddly-accented demon with a kick to the back of the head.  
The idiots were enjoying themsel- oh hell. What was he doing now?

Krillin gave a small yelp as one of the demons picked him up by the collar and pushed him backwards onto the bar top, broken glass cutting into his back. His opponent snarled and leant in, razor sharp teeth stained with blood from a busted nose. He pulled his fist back, gathering ki in a small ball, preparing to slam it into the monk's face.

"Uh oh."

As Krillin was about to try and block, he felt himself being yanked backwards (face still intact); the rather surprised–looking demon being blasted across the room by a powerful ki beam from behind his head. He fell backwards and landed on the on top of his rescuer, who let out a low but distinctly feminine yelp.

Krillin, trying to get out of the markedly undignified position, turned around to face the woman on whom he'd landed and found himself looking into the icy-blue eyes of Android 18.

"Bugger."

"Get. Off. Me."

He readily complied.  
18 simply gave him one steel-hard glare and then launched herself over the bar top, a somewhat dazed and confused Krillin staring blankly after her – his reverie ending when she grabbed him by his shirt and hauled him over too.  
"Now we're even."

_What is she doing here? Here of all places? Was she out for the night? That shirt has quite a low neckline. Why the hell would she come to a demon bar? Unless she was here with a demon. Or unless she heard I was coming. No, probably the first idea. Aw man, I bet she's here with a demon –_  
"Wait...what?"

"I said now we're even. You save me, I save you: debt repaid."

"Huh?"

She let out an exasperated sigh, and then turned to punch a man through a table. "What the hell are you doing here anyway?" Her eyes narrowed, "Did you come_ looking for me?_ Because I'm telling you now that _that _isn't going to happ-"

"What? No! No I didn't come looking for you! I didn't even know you were here! You know I can't sense you! I was here with-"

Yamcha's voice could be heard over the din of music and fighting, "DUCK!"

They both ducked as a cigarette machine hurtled through the air.

"There you are 18. I need you to hold this for me." 17 had appeared as if by magic by Krillin's side, he handed his sister half a broken bottle and disappeared again, presumably back into the last remnants of the brawl.

"Was he covered in someone else's blood?"

"Yes he was."

"Lovely."

Then there was a silence. One of those silences that seem to form a bubble around the participants, everything else around them slowed down as they quietly pondered the absurdity of the situation.  
Then there was an explosion.

"DODGE!"

And they did. Not a minute too soon as the last demon standing was blasted, courtesy a Masenko attack from Piccolo, straight through the air where they had been standing the moment before.  
Then straight through the wall behind the bar, straight through the next outer wall and straight into a dishevelled-looking campervan outside. Which then burst into flames.

As the dust and debris settled, those left standing stood quietly; nursing wounds, they ignored the moans and groans of the defeated demons around them and watched the mini fireworks display that was previously the twin's home.

"So who was it who said we should park round the back?"

"_Bugger._"

* * *

_That one was rather short, but I did try. As you could probably tell, I'm not used to writing action scenes. I hope you liked it though. _

_And the oddly-accented Demon? A Geordie._


	5. A kiss with a fist

_Yay! I wrote that quicker than I usually do... hope that sticks. So yeah, any constructive criticism, comments and questions are happily recieved._

_Well, I saw two shooting stars last night  
I wished on them, but they were only satellites  
It's wrong to wish on space hardware  
I wish, I wish, I wish you cared - A New England - Jamie T_

_****__Fools Fall In: Chapter 5._

It was the early hours of the morning and in a back alley in one of the seedier parts of East City, the shrill ring of a car alarm pierced the air. The Z-senshi and the Androids watched the vehicle blaze away as the demon that'd been thrown into it crawled off into the shadows of the parking area, bat-like wings smouldering.

"That was yours?" Krillin turned to 18 sheepishly, she simply stared straight ahead, an incredulous look on her face.

"I hope it was insured."

17 clambered over the rubble of what had been the wall of the _Rakshasa_ holding the remnants of a barstool. His shoulders visibly slumped as he saw the campervan was beyond any hope of salvage.  
As was his paddling-pool.

"I liked that van."

There was another silence, until Yamcha clapped his hands together in an awkward fashion and said, "Well I think we should be heading off now. Thank you for your help and it was good to catch up..."  
He fell quiet again as Piccolo strode forward towards the two cyborgs; he regarded them with narrowed eyes and clenched a fist. Krillin then realised that they both had no idea why the twins had been there in the first place. Fortunately, before either could get very paranoid about it, Yamcha set them right.

"They work here. Apparently. "

The big namek looked decidedly unconvinced, but seemed to relax a little. Neither he nor the taller human noticed the look of relief on their friend's face. So she wasn't there with someone else. Eeeeeeeeep.

18 shrugged and huffed, "Well not any more."

"Huh? You quitting? I know it's a mess but – "

She pointed towards a part of the back wall which had survived Piccolo's blast, a camera started blankly back at them. Surveillance. Video streamed straight back to the clubs lovely owner.

"I doubt we'll be keeping our jobs once she sees that we helped you...and caused a large amount of damage ourselves." With this she stared pointedly at 17, who turned to look behind him, then pulled an 'I'm so very shocked that you're even insinuating that I'm not a complete angel' face. His sister simply shook her head and headed back into the club, emerging a second later stuffing zeni notes down the front of her shirt.

Krillin worried himself a little with the notion that he was actually jealous of those little pieces of paper.

She was well aware that she was going back on her decision to generally avoid committing crimes (their last offense being 'borrowing' the van itself), but everything they had owned had been in that van. All of the money they'd legitimately earned, their clothes – oh god her shoes. She winced.  
That stupid green git. She should've seen it coming. Her files had warned her he was prone to being enormously destructive._ I should destroy something of his. Like his face. _

"So, you going to be okay? Getting home I mean." Krillin looked earnestly up at her, snapping her out of her shoe-mourning trance. She snorted and put her hands on her hips, resisting the urge to smack him in his concerned little face. She wished he's stop looking at her like that.

"That _was _our home, idiot."

"Oh. I... I'm sorry...

The dark-haired android smiled and narrowed his eyes, "Don't you think you owe us an apology Piccolo?" His voice carrying with it a hint of menace, and the namek glowered back. They already had unfinished business. Yamcha moved swiftly between the two, holding up his hands, "Look I'm sure he is sorry, and I mean it was an accident and all and well um..."

17 simply shrugged and put his hands in his pockets. He let out a short sharp laugh. "It doesn't matter really" he turned to his sister, "I've figured out a solution to our problem anyway."

"Oh you have, have you, brother?" She sounded sceptical.

"Yes. We're moving in with Krillin."

"What."

"Wait, what?"

"Well, let me explain, my vertically challenged friend. You are the one who got us into this mess." His voice rose a little, moving from the expressionless monotone it usually was to a voice that almost sounded annoyed. "You come in to our bar; start a kerfuffle, ("a kerfuffle?" "Yes a kerfuffle.") bring Scarface and John Spartan here with you, blowing up the place. More than likely lost us our jobs and to top it all off you blew up MY VAN! Ergo, it is your fault. You owe us."

"17, I don't think that –" 18 did not look impressed. In fact, Krillin thought, a little offended, that she looked almost worried.

"It's only logical."

"Wh...No it's not! I didn't start this mess in the first place!"

"Oh really? Who did then?"

"Master Roshi!"

"Then point us to where this Master Roshi lives and we'll move right in!"

"...he lives...with me..."

17's face broke out into a smirk of smug satisfaction. "I'll get my coat."

Krillin and 18 regarded each other and then let out identical resigned sighs. _Ah irony_, thought Krillin, _it sure does love me._ _Any other night. Really. Ugh, this really has been a wonderful ,wonderful day. Dende, why have you forsaken me?  
_Had this have been a television show, at that precise moment there would have been a swift cut to show the young god of Earth rocking his little heart out playing Guitar Hero quite happily forsaking Krillin. But I digress.

Piccolo and Yamcha exchanged looks.  
"I bet this isn't how he imagined what her coming home with him would be like."

* * *

About half an hour later, Krillin and his two android 'guests' arrived at Kame House. Thankfully, he discovered, as he switched on the lights and saw no-one up, Master Roshi and Oolong we're asleep. Therefore he'd have until the morning to figure out a way to tell them that two killer robots were living with them. Provided of course, he survived the night. Judging by the slightly annoyed look on 18's usually serene face, it didn't look likely.

"So this is it huh? Pokey."

"What is that smell?" She wrinkled her nose.

"It's really better that you don't know."

The cyborgs took in their surroundings; the house was very well lived in, but it was much tidier than their van had been (despite having three males living there). The decor was mismatched and rather dated, and since coming through the door, 18 had lost count of the number of _adult _paraphernalia Krillin had sneakily tried to move out of view. How charming.  
He was now mumbling something about futons.

"... and I mean the settee is comfortable enough for one of you if you'd rather not share the spare room..."

"Whatever." She replied in a bored tone, eyeing up the contents of a bookshelf. Manga. Porn. Comic books. Crime thrillers. Cookery books. Krillin shifted uncomfortably. He didn't like the idea of either of them poking through the house, making judgements. Especially her.  
There was the unmistakable sound of drawers being rifled through and the tiny man realised 17 had left the room.

"Why do you keep Vaseline in the kitchen?"

The woman gave Krillin a very disturbed look.  
"Does the spare bedroom have a lock on the door?"  
"Um...yes. Yes it does."  
"I'll be sleeping there then. 17!" She called through, the rummaging stopped, "You're on the sofa. I'm going to bed."

And with that, she walked out of the room; only to lean back into sight a moment later.  
"Second room on the left, purple door, can't miss it.", said the monk with a yawn.

"Thanks."

Krillin mumbled a tiny "your welcome" under his breath as he watched her climb the stairs and disappear into the darkness of the landing. He took one last look into the living room, where 17 was lying messily on the sofa, one leg hung over the back. The human rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and sighed. He was completely exhausted. The entire night had been overwhelming, and despite having the object of his misguided and foolish affections under the same roof, all he could think about was climbing into bed. In the past hour, he hadn't even thought about the whole Majon issue, which was probably for the best... he could worry about that tomorrow.  
But for now, sleep.

* * *

It was perhaps an understatement to say that Majon was not amused.  
Not in the slightest.

She stood inside the now quite open-plan _Rakshasa_ clutching a bacon sandwich in one hand and the collar of her head of security in the other. After she'd finished shaking him and yelling about incompetence, idiocy and general uselessness, her hand realised him and he hobbled away from her on a set of quite recently acquired crutches.

"Could somebody- SOMEBODY- please explain to me what the smeg happened here last night?"

She took a viscous bite of the bun, as a large demon with a black eye and second degree burns appeared by her side holding a video tape in his claws.

"Majon, miss, I've got the surveillance tape from last night here and-"

"Can't you just tell me what happened? Weren't you there?" She took another bite.

"Yes, I... er was, but you see I think you should probably see this anyway."

"So what was the deal, it was Krillin and his buddies that did this, wasn't it? I mean I know there supposed to be strong..." She chewed, contemplating.

"Um, yeah... they were stronger than we thought...and you know... since we weren't trying to kill them... that sort of... hindered us."

She rolled her eyes, "Yeah I'm sure it did Katya. Just give me that," snatching the video out of his hands she gave him a nasty look, "I ask you to do one thing Katya, just you know, rough them up a little bit, and you can't even do that right."

"Hey one of them was Damioah's son you know"

"I know that, couldn't you have, I dunno, held him off with a rice cooker or something." She finished her sandwich and shooed him away, "Just go get a sweeping brush and help out will ya. I'm going to the office."

The titular office was situated above the _Rakshasa_, and was still intact, unlike the bar and back wall. Which would be expensive to repair, dammit. Today was not off to a good start, thought the demoness as she stomped up the stairs. She felt foolish for the most part... how stupid had she been, getting her regular goons involved? She'd let her temper get the better of her, but gawd knew she wouldn't be doing that again. She could tell by the mess and the state of the boys that he and his friends were more than a match, but after her little speech last night it was very unlikely he'd resort to violence. Her tail swished in an agitated manner; he'd looked so worried... as if she'd really scared him. But anyways, why should she worry? She had months yet to win him over, and vice versa. He was cute, in a shy, awkward kind of way...

This _has_ to work.  
It just has to.

Her mobile phone started ringing as she put the video in the machine and pressed play, picking up; she found it was one of her girlfriends.

"Bon journo, Zeezee. Yeah, horrible. Mmmhmmm, trashed. That bet thing I told you about – well – no – yeah, that's not the point though... yeah...yeah... yes of course I have. Hey Zeezee...Zeezee, stop talking. I need you to do me a big favour. No not that. I need you to help me dig about and find out who this Krillin guy is... and his friends. No, no... Yes I promise I'll get you something nice. Yeah you got a pen? Yeah he lives with Baba's brother – Kame House. Brought Ma Junior with him. I know! There was a guy called Yancha? Yamcha? Something-cha anyway. Looks familiar... sure I've seen him on TV...I dunno. Anyway, can you get me some info? Anything I can work with...date of births, jobs, favourite movie..."

She trailed off staring intently at the screen. Oh. Hell. No.

"_YEAH SURE I CAN DO THAT FOR YOU MAJ. MAJ? YOU STILL THERE?"_

"I'll ring you back Zeezee."

Majon hung up without waiting for Zeezee's reply. She was watching the events of last night in black and white. She'd watched as the fight had started. She'd watched as Krillin, Piccolo and Yamcha had begun taking down the demons. She had then bore witness to the video's display of Krillin being pulled back in the knick of time by her blonde barmaid.  
Her excessively attractive barmaid.  
But what had really caught her attention. What had made her stop mid-sentence and made her stomach flip over was how her newly acquired pet-boyfriend had responded to the barmaid. The grey grain of the tape couldn't hide the darkening of his face to a blush, nor the blaringly obvious body-language that spoke of attraction and most definitely not the look of adoration on his face that was caught when he turned in direction of the camera.  
Fuck. Their relationship hadn't even started and already there was another woman.  
He was absolutely smitten with her barmaid.  
Her barmaid who, along with that insane brother of hers, helped destroy half her precious nightclub.  
Her barmaid that was _sooooo_ fired.

Had, towards the end of the tape, the gorgeous goldielocked young woman simply shook hands with Krillin and made a swift exit – Majon would've probably felt a lot better about what she saw. Would've probably not blasted the TV through the wall of the office. However this did not happen.

Majon watched with clenched fists and that sharp stabbing pain of betrayal in her chest, as her own fairly won Mr.-Nice-Guy took off into the night with that yellow-haired bitch.

It was fairly safe to say that the day after the fight at the _Rakshasa, _Majon was most definitely not amused.

* * *

Yawning and scratching himself, Master Roshi padded slowly down the stairs of Kame House towards the kitchen. The house was quiet, he mused, must be the first one up. He enjoyed quiet mornings before his peace was shattered with Oolong, Krillin, the Turtle and whom-ever might visit. He'd make himself some breakfast and eat it outside with a nice piece of literature, he decided, humming happily to himself.

When he reached into the cupboard to retrieve the chocolate-flavoured cereal, he did not find it there. Instead, it sat on the bench, messily opened. The old master readjusted his glasses and figured Krillin must've had some when he'd gotten back last night. _I wonder how that went, _he thought as he made himself a bowl of 'Choco-pops'.

He was musing to himself about whether Krillin had sorted things out with that Demon woman, and of course which magazine to read with his cereal as he got to his deck chair outside.  
Someone was already in it.

Android 17 sat with his own bowl of cereal in his underwear, scarf of course – as always- still on.

"Urrrr..."

"Hello. I came home with Krillin last night."

Master Roshi regarded the statement for a moment, then turned around and went back.  
Where things made sense.

* * *

Miles away, in his flat, Yamcha sat bolt upright in bed and smacked himself in the forehead. He'd just gotten the joke 17 made about Piccolo.

_"Demolition man."_

Happy with this revelation, he flopped back down.

* * *

_Yeah, so that was chapter 5. Hope people like it! Hopefully I'm painting a better picture of Majon as a character.  
18 is so hard to write. *grumble *_


	6. she's got Bette Davis eyes

_The next chapter - AT LAST. Sorry this one took me so long to write. I kinda work in stints of inspiration... and lack of History essays. But anyway. _

**_Fools Fall In: Chapter 6_**

_"Next thing- we're touching  
__You look at me  
__it's like you've hit me with lightning". - Ellie Goulding._

_... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... _

_Well then_, thought Krillin as he made himself a cup of tea, _what now?_

Let's look at this logically. Point one: I have a limited amount of time to figure out how to escape becoming a demon-woman's pet boyfriend/chew toy.  
Point two: I will have to spend this time hanging out with said demon woman; making small talk whilst plotting behind her back.  
Point three: a cyborg woman of questionable reform, on whom I've also got perhaps the biggest and most pathetic crush on in the history of the entire universe, is now living with me. And so is her brother.  
Point four: I cannot find the sugar.

Could've sworn there was sugar yesterday.  
He raided the cupboards, but to no avail. Sugarless tea it was then. A wonderful way to start the day.

Krillin wandered drowsily into the living room and sat down, only to spot blankets strewn about the settee, cushions on the floor. Ah yes. The house guests. He took a gulp of the hot, bland tea. He hadn't seen either twin this morning. Had they left before he'd gotten up? Left without saying 'thanks' or 'see ya!', well, he decided, at least he should be content they hadn't set fire to the house–

"mrrrruuuh." A grumpy and dishevelled looking 18 stumbled through the living room.

Oh. My mistake.  
He jumped up and followed her into the kitchen, knitting his eyebrows as he saw her paw at the fridge door in an attempt to find the handle. Geez, someone obviously wasn't a morning person.  
It was so surreal, he thought, in the morning light, hair messy and the imprint of the pillow on her cheek; she looked just like any other person... so unabashedly alive.

"Morning." Said the monk, in a tone that sounded more like an apology than a greeting.  
"Fnnneeehhh." Came the reply.  
"Good sleep?"  
No reply this time. Only a scowl as she opened the door and bent over to examine the contents of the fridge.  
Krillin almost dropped his tea. "I urr...um... do you want some breakfast?"  
"Mmmmhmm." Mumbled she; pulling out a tray of eggs and sliding them across the kitchen bench towards him. Her hair was untidy and last night's eye makeup had not yet seen the business end of a wet-wipe. She looked almost pathetic. Almost human.

"Incoherent noises are the best I'm gonna get from you this morning, aren't they?"

"Shut up."

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

When he awoke that morning, he assumed he'd be more upset than he actually was. But here he was, having breakfast with (well, in the same room as, anyway) this beautiful bedraggled blonde. The sun was shining. He had yet to be murdered horribly. Not too shabby.  
He watched 18 tuck strands of yellow hair behind her hear. She looked as if she'd slept very little. Had he cleaned the spare room recently? Or at least opened the window... let it air a bit...Bulma had once told him that sometimes the house smelt distinctly of well, bachelor... not that he could ever sm- wait who's boxer's was she wearing?  
His entire face went scarlet. Oh god, change your train of thought Krillin before you implode.

"So where's your brother then?"

"17? No idea."

18 shovelled scrambled eggs into her mouth in a very unladylike manner; he had no idea that she actually ate at all. Guess that solved that question.  
The smaller man put the kettle back on to boil, "I haven't seen him all morning... actually...come to think of it... I haven't seen Master Roshi or Oolong either. "  
"He's probably burying the bodies then."

A look of horror arose in Krillin's face. She responded by rolling her eyes and demanded he get her some tomato sauce for the eggs.  
Actually... where had her bloody brother gotten to? It wasn't like him to get up so early. He must have been gone for a while. Urgh, her lip curled in disgust, he'd probably gone to get another paddling pool. She stabbed at her breakfast. Krillin hurried for the sauce.

The small monk was more than a little relieved that he didn't have to deal with the brother this morning. Those piercing blue eyes just made him so uncomfortable... but in a different way to how 18's did. It was like they could see into the deep dark little recesses of his mind... and knew fine well what Krillin was doing to his sister in there.  
Although the question now was _where_ he was and indeed _what _was he was doing – Krillin didn't want to even hazard a guess.

A few moments later, he'd finished his tea. Looking up, he noticed that 18 was staring intently at his scalp, pulling a face Krillin couldn't quite read.

"What's with the head fuzz?"  
"Oh this? I'm... well... I'm just leaving it be for now... dunno if I'll let it grow out or not."  
"Looks like I could light a match with it."  
He inclined his head towards her, and after a moment of wondering what he was doing, 18 got the hint and ran her fingers over the dark semi-opaque layer of hair.  
"Oh it's soft."  
"Papaya conditioner thank you very much."  
There fell a comfortable silence as 18 seemed to be thoroughly entertained by the texture. Krillin was only dimly aware that this would perhaps look a little weird if her brother walked in; however he was much more concerned with the fact he had a beautiful woman caressing him... albeit in a fashion similar to one stroking a dog. _I swear to god if I start kicking my leg...  
_She stopped suddenly and pushed his head away from her (and by extension – him) and rolled her eyes at him.  
"Cute."

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

A young man rolled sluggishly out of bed, the low and grating sound of his dog barking on and on awakening him from an annoyingly Freudian dream involving pineapples. Yawning, he pulled on his dressing gown and stomped downstairs to the kitchen where he found his overly large dog howling, yelping and scratching at the back door.  
"Alright, alright. I'm coming you great big queen."  
He threw open the door, saw the smouldering wreck of a van and turned, heading back to the fridge. He pulled out a carton of milk and took a generous swig.

"Wait."

He ran to the door. The burnt out skeleton of his previously stolen camper-van was plonked in the middle of his back yard, Moffat (the aforementioned pet) running in circles around it.  
There was a piece of paper attached to it. A note.  
It read: _Told you we were only borrowing it. The bumpers a bit loose. Xx 17 & 18_

"Son of a bitch."

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

The android had turned up an hour after breakfast to find his sister and the small fuzz-haired monk engaged in a very awkward and one-sided conversation, primarily consisting of Krillin attempting to make small talk and 18 answering with blunt Yes, No or Ignore him completely answers.  
Then she had spotted him. And the ash and motor oil that he was covered in.  
"Where the hell have you been?"  
17 dodged a bottle of tomato sauce.

"Where haven't I been?"

"Ugh. Whatever." And with that 17's twin stomped past him, up the stairs to presumably get dressed.

God he loved annoying her. Prodding and poking and getting under her skin until she snapped. He almost laughed at her temper. Krillin saw a brief flash of amusement in the other man's icy blue eyes, then an even more brief flash of something else. Affection maybe? It didn't matter.  
The taller man simply sauntered over to the washing machine, took his filthy shirt off and threw it in before taking the seat 18 had vacated, lounging there, top off, like he owned the place. His focus entirely concentrated on the monk. There were those piercing eyes again. Krillin shook the unsettled feeling off. He moved towards the washing machine, then turned and held out his hand to the android, who looked at him blankly.  
"Your bandanna is dirty too, pass it here and I'll throw it in the wash."  
Pale as he was, Krillin noticed colour drain away from the other man's face. "No, its fine for now."  
"Are you sure? Coz the colours won't run and-"  
"I said no." 17 replied rather sharply. The tone of his usually emotionless voice told the monk it was better to leave it. He eyed the offending piece of orange fabric coolly.  
"Okay bro, suit yourself."

So he put the washing machine on anyway and went about tidying the dirty dishes from the table. 17 piped up again as his sister re-entered the kitchen, dressed in last night's jeans and a blue t-shirt she'd dug up from the depths of the spare room.  
"So what's the deal with you being at the Rashaka last night? You were talking to Majon; did you upset her or something?"

18 turned and looked at Krillin too, blank eyes boring into him – questioning.  
The young monk raised an eyebrow, "Why do you want to know?"

"Let's call it ...bile fascination." The male android leant over the kitchen table toward him, resting his chin in his hands, staring intently with cold, dead eyes.

Krillin sighed and took a gulp of the now cooling tea. Urgh, how he enjoyed repeating this story; it never made any more sense to him each time he told it.  
"There was an... incident involving Master Roshi –"

"That old man who lives here?"

"Um, yeah, and well he got drunk and well he lost me in a bet to Majon."

There was a silence. The siblings swapped looks. Krillin continued, somewhat pleased that his previous sentence wasn't followed by the hysterical laughter it seemed to usually attract.

"So I went last night to try and get out of being, you know, owned by her; only to find out I can't get out of it, I have three months to get to know her before I have to go live with her aaaaand she now thinks that because I brought Yamcha and Piccolo along that I was trying to intimidate her."

18 fiddled with her fingernails and seemed to be thinking about something. "What do you mean – own you?"

"Apparently my official title is 'Pet Boyfriend'."

17 looked at him blankly. "Why would that be a bad thing? You haven't had a girlfriend in about 4 years. "

Krillin gave him an incredulous look. "It's bad because I'm sure it goes against so many human rights laws, wasn't particularly my fault to begin with and how on earth do you know how long it's been since I've had a girlfriend?."

Both Androids simply tapped their foreheads, simultaneously saying "Files."

It took a moment for Krillin to register this. "W..wait... files? You have files on me?"  
"Yes. We have files on everyone of importance in Son Goku's life. You. Your Master Roshi. Son Goku's wife and son. Some files are more elaborate... others... not so much... like the floaty-doll-guy."

"Yeah, what's he about?"

"What sort of information have you got on us?" He fidgeted with a plate. He did not like this at all. Obviously Gero had wanted to be thorough, but the idea that 18 had all of his most private information running through her head made him feel slightly sick.  
The blonde woman shifted a little in her seat, but her brother answered the question with brutal honesty.  
"Mostly things like family, date of births, relationships, sexual orientation, weaknesses, power levels. Stuff that could be used against you."

"Ah... wait... sexual orientation?"

"Oh yeah."

"Huh. Okay then... so if I asked you about – "  
"Yeah he is."  
"Really?"  
"As the day is long."  
"I KNEW it."

There was a silence as the small congregation tried to figure out what to say next. Krillin came up with something first.  
"Can you delete the files?"  
The blonde woman shook her head, explaining something about the information being uploaded directly into their minds. Attempting to delete or even replace files (now Gero was dead) would be too risky. And so what if she knew Goku's favourite colour was red? It made no real difference. The monk pondered this for a moment, before accepting it quite miserably.

18 regarded him. Did it make him uncomfortable? Her knowing things about him? To her, it just saved on meaningless conversations and misunderstandings. She was going to live with him for a while; it made sense to know him.  
_Ah but_, came a voice, creeping up her spine and into the back of her mind, it's not _knowing, _it's having _files. _It's the reminder that you're not a real person. Humans don't have _files ... that's_ why he's so uncomfortable.  
How she hated that voice.

Krillin spoke up again. "So you guys worked for her right? How much do you know about her?" He asked hopefully, that silly smile plastered on his face as usual.

They both toyed with the idea of messing with him, telling him how terrifying and all-powerful this axe-crazy demoness was. Or even to get him to underestimate her... '_oh she's so nice! ', 'a model boss. Gives money to charity. Works with the homeless. Can stick both legs behind her head...'_  
But in the end, it was 17 who seemed to break first under the human's genuine smile. 18 smirked in amusement when she realised her brother had passed up an opportunity he usually wouldn't miss. How odd.

So they told him what they knew about her – which wasn't really very much. Majon, was quite a shrewd business woman. Affectionate to those she knew and was always in a pair of high heels. Was usually seen on the arm of her boyfriend, whom, according to 17 "reeked of being a dickhead", fawning and pretty much worshipping the ground he walked on.  
"And I'm pretty sure she has connections with the Demon Mafia... or Yakuza... or whatever."  
"There's no Demon Mafia."  
"You say that now, but you wait 'til they check the camera's and see you stealing that money... then we'll see who wakes up with a horse's head on their pillow."  
"Shut up."

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

The rest of the morning past uneventfully; Krillin first explained the situation with the Androids to the other occupants of Kame House then he tidied whilst 17 raided the video collection and 18 sunbathed outside.

"Lets see: boring, boring, like, boring, haven't seen, saw first five minutes it's rubbish – what the...Strictly Ballroom? Why do you have Strictly Ballroom?"

"I...er..."

"This is going in the files, I hope you know."

"heeeyyyy there's noth-"

BRIIIIINNNNGGGGGG BBBRRRRRIIIIIIINNNNNGGGG

"Ah! Phone!"

"You can't hide from the truth forever." 17 called after him.

Hmph.  
He picked up the phone. "Hello?"  
"Bon journo Krillin sweetie." Came the spice-warm voice over the line.  
17 looked up from a video cover when he heard the other man make a pathetic mewling sound. Like a kitten stuck in a cupboard.  
"Majon! Er... I... urrr"  
"Listen, I'd like to apologise for last night."  
"I er - what?"  
"Last night, things got a bit... carried away. To put it lightly. Are you okay?" she inquired, voiced dripping with honey. He stared at the receiver. She was giving off more mixed signals than a broken radio. How on earth did she function from day to day?  
"Yeah I'm fine... no harm done."  
"Your friends?"  
"Alive and in one piece... um... what about your guys?"  
"Ahhh they'll be fine. They're demons, they'll bounce right back. Apart from Iravan... he's not going to be able to bounce for a looooong time..."  
"Oh. Sorry."  
"Yeah well. It's their own fault, I asked them to rough you guys up a bit, not start a fight."  
Krillin pulled a face at the phone. _How is that any less bat-shit insane?  
_"But I digress; I meant to phone you to set a date for... Monday was it? I'm thinking a cafe of some description."  
"That sounds nice."  
And thus a date was made. Krillin felt slightly more comfortable now (despite some of the conversation's content), as something about both her tone was ...sincere.

On the other end, Majon was curled up on her sofa, curling the telephone wire between long feminine fingers. She could hear him relax. A good sign. Definitely a good sign.  
"So it's a date then." She smiled to the receiver, "and Krillin, don't worry. It'll be fine."  
"Sure... hang on two seconds...? "  
It was then she heard a couple of background noises from the other end of the line, the bang of a door and mumbled conversation. Majon flinched as she heard the dulcet feminine voice from the other end. The barmaid was still there...she'd stayed the night.

"Hey again, look Majon I have to go – but Monday is a sure thing!"  
"Looking forward to it!" she replied chirpily, but through clenched teeth, sounding more sinister than anything. He didn't seem to notice. Obviously his attention was elsewhere.

Goodbyes were exchanged and she hung up. Krillin put the phone down gently and went to sit on the settee; next to him, 17 was still investigating films and 18 had wandered in from outside to get a drink. He sat down quietly and let out a little sigh.

"Well that wasn't too bad."

"Your missing one very important point."

"What's that?"

"How did she get your number?"

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

As if by magic later that day, the moment Krillin had picked up the phone to order a takeaway – Gohan wandered in through the front door. Years in dealing with the boy's father had led Krillin to believe that this sort of thing was never a coincidence. The child beamed at his friend when he automatically added about eight extra items to the order.  
"I spoil you bro."

Gohan rushed over to the monk and breathlessly asked if he was okay.  
"Mr. Piccolo told me what happened, and mom and I wanted to make sure you were alright!" his eyes seemed to skim over Krillin, checking for black eyes or bruises.

"I'm fine kiddo, fine. I think those demons got more than they were bargaining for – Piccolo saw to that..."  
The boy rolled his eyes and smiled, sitting himself down on the settee; where he then promptly noticed the two androids awkwardly loitering in the kitchen. "Hey guys!"  
They mumbled hello's back. Quietly, 18 turned to her brother: "_Why's he like that? So annoyingly...nice. It's infuriating."  
_"_£50 zeni says he cracks before he's 20 and destroys the universe."  
_"_You're on."_

Krillin leant over the back of the settee, "Wait, Chichi wanted to make sure I was alright?"  
"Um, yeah, I kinda told her about what happened..."  
"She laughed didn't she?"  
"...yeah she did."  
"Of course she did. How is she anyway? Coping ok?"  
Gohan shrugged, "She's alright. I mean we're both kind of..." he trailed off. His shoulders slumped a little. Krillin was about to say something when 18 appeared at the doorway, an eyebrow raised.  
"What's wrong with her?"

"Um," said the boy, "She's pregnant."  
"Oh. Eww." And with that she walked past them and went outside. Gohan turned to look at Krillen, a hint of smug knowing in his smile. His older friend blushed, "Oh shut up."  
"I didn't say anything!"

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Lounging in a deckchair outside, 18 watched the sea and sunset; one hand resting on the armrest, the over picking up handfuls of warm sand and letting it run through her fingers. The tide was high and the air was starting to get cold. It perturbed her how much she felt the chill.

She wondered where she would go from here. 17 was fine. He could function without any real direction. The uncertainty was not... comfortable to her. So she was here. Living here with that silly smiling little human... Krillin.  
It was comfortable here; the pig and the old man had left her alone for the most part. Krillin had not bothered her much, she could tell he was trying not to annoy her... maybe he was still scared of her?  
He should be.  
Shouldn't he?  
Yes – she was an android, she was supposed to be his enemy... everyone's enemy. First and foremost. Regardless of what had happened those five months ago. Cell. That insignificant kiss. The wish.  
Urgh. That wish! She'd never felt the same after that damn thing. It wasn't as if she'd ever felt the bomb there to begin with... but once it was gone... something... changed. She couldn't place it.  
Maybe it was freedom.  
Maybe it was lack of purpose.  
Maybe it was him... treating her and her brother like they were... human. The cyborg woman 'hmphed' quietly. _I didn't think I'd ever see him again._

18 ran her fingers through her hair and crossed her legs, taking in the colours of the setting sun. Out in the distance she noticed the silhouette of a vehicle of some description getting larger. _That'll be the food, _she mused. _Time to go back in_.  
She stood and brushed off sand from her clothes. I _wonder where I'll go from here. _

18 found everyone in the kitchen, Gohan nattering away to a rather bemused looking 17 about Namek, with Krillin chipping in every so often, Oolong and Roshi rolling their eyes at the story they'd heard before. However the attention of their eyes was swiftly hijacked by the attractive blonde woman leaning against the door frame, arms crossed over her chest. "I think the food's here."  
"Oolong, can you?"  
"Hell no, do it yourself." A cup bounced off the pig's skull. "Fine! Fine! But I'm spittin' in yours fuzz-head."  
Gohan giggled. Krillin just sighed, and then inquired about drinks. Water. Juice. Pop. Tea...?

"Juice please!"

"Throw a beer my way."

"My sister and I will be having Motor oil – ow! _No hitting_!"

18 scowled. "Make mine a coffee."

Krillin nodded. "Milk?"  
"No, I like my coffee black. Like my men." Replied the android; deadpan.  
Krillin turned to look at her. Her face was completely expressionless – but her eyes, oh her eyes. They had a spark in them he hadn't noticed before. Humour and...life.  
He smiled. And she smiled too.

And then Gohan asked him to explain the joke.

* * *

_kay. hope you guys liked it. I always think the middle-parts of stories are the hardest to write... but yeah. So yet again any comments or constructive criticism is well-recieved. Questions, observations - fire away._  
_Hopefully I'll get chapter 7 out by the end of December... hopefully._

_Laters! :D_


	7. Sweet disposition

_Hey guys, sorry it's taken so long. My excuses range from A) very difficult chapter to write, ended up having to split it in two and move stuff around, B) am in the middle of revising for my final final university exams. The ones that will decide if I'm allowed to be a teacher or not, and C) I discovered the Dragonkink meme and got seriously distracted. _

_Anyway. Here we go!_

**Fools Fall In: Chapter 7**

_Fascinating new thing_  
_You delight me, and I know you're speaking of me_  
_Fascinating new thing_  
_Get beside me, I want you to love me - FNT Semisonic_

* * *

"How do I look?" He spun around in a way reminiscent of a little girl showing off a new dress. She took in the sight and grimaced.

"Do you want the truth?"

"Um..."

"You look great." She returned her gaze to the magazine.

"Was that the truth?"

"Of course it wasn't." She replied, not even bothering to look up from an article on this season's shoes.

"Aww...really?"

Android 18 let out an exasperated sigh and gave him her full attention. Tapping a finger on the side of her face, she tipped her head to one side. "Unless this is all part of your cunning plan to put her off you... scaring her away with that top."  
Krillin pulled on the front of the lime green shirt he was wearing. "What's wrong with it? It's...jaunty."

"It's not jaunty – it's loud and tacky...like you." The cyborg woman smirked at her own joke.

"That's just mean." The monk scowled, trying to decide whether to take notice of her observation or not. If not this shirt, then what about the purple one he had? It was more ...subdued. But then it was more of a night-out shirt... this was only really coffee...Hang on...what about a pink one? Girls liked a guy in a pink shirt didn't they? _Hang on there. We're not trying to get her to like you, remember? This is going to be an anti-date. Ah. Yes indeed, thank you brain. You're welcome.  
_He stood there for a moment. He 'hmmphed' and stalked upstairs to find a new top. The blonde woman smiled to herself, amused over her little victory.

She was perusing a page on some random woman who'd left her husband for a 20 year old waiter she'd met on holiday, when her brother stomped in.  
"All of this sand is driving me insaaaaaane. How is it not bothering you more? Surely it should be... lodged places."  
18 simply gave him a bored look and went back to the article. "If you don't like it here then you can leave. Get a new van. A pink one."  
He seemed to ponder this for a moment. "I can't possibly leave you here. Not with buzz-cut up there. Who knows what sordid things you two could get up to without me here to chaperone."  
No words can truly express just how disgusted she appeared in response to that comment. Well, as disgusted as a cyborg can really look. She put the magazine down, no longer able to look at the page giving out advice on quite frankly some dangerous looking sexual positions. The slim teenager flung himself over the back of the settee and, getting sand all over the place, starting flicking through the television channels. His sister scowled, got up and dusted the sand from her leggings before stomping towards the kitchen to try and find something sharp to stab at him with.

"How 'bout this then?" Krillin had reappeared in the living room, now wearing a pastel yellow shirt over a white top. She stopped and looked. Really looked.

"You look..." How did he look? Sweet, was the only word that sprung to mind.

"Lemony-fresh right?" He raised a dark eyebrow, silly smile on his face.

The blonde woman simply snorted.

"Fine. You look ... fine." She replied hands on hips, head tilted to the side, as if she was weighing something up. As his heart rate seemed to double under her gaze, Krillin couldn't decide whether he liked this look or not.  
The television had stopped on a shopping channel, but the settee's occupant was no longer paying attention to it, instead he was staring pointedly at the two people stood behind it; neither of which had realised that they hadn't spoken in a number of minutes.  
Krillin immediately started fussing with his shirt buttons whilst the dark-haired youth sniggered, narrowly dodging a rolled up magazine. He looked at the clock on the wall. Quarter to two.  
Quarter to two?

"Shit! Shit! Shit I gotta go!" He sped around, becoming nothing but a blur as he tried to locate a pair of shoes. Oh hell this was going to be just awful. Just...awful.  
As he reached the front door, he turned to the twins.  
"So I look okay?"  
"For Kami's sake, yes! Just remember your," she made the inverted commas hand gesture,"..._plan_."  
17 pointed to the ceiling dramatically, "And remember you don't do anything that you don't want to do! You hear me? She is not entitled to anything; you have the right to say no."  
The shorter man made a noise that sounded like something between a snarl and a groan, shaking his head exasperatedly. The blonde twin simply rolled her eyes.

"Just go already!"

"Okay okay! Sheeesh!" The monk picked up a set of set of keys from a hook on the wall, took one more rather terrified look at the two androids in his front room (who he'd be leaving alone with Master Roshi and Oolong...and poor, poor Turtle... that thought alone made him feel ill) and went to take off out of the door.

…..

* * *

When Krillin had left, 18 wandered upstairs without any real purpose, and soon found herself in his room. She'd not yet taken the time to invade this area of the house and surveyed it slowly; absorbing the information she could glean from the posters on the wall and the bits and bobs scattered around the room. It was cluttered yes, but warmly lived in. There were a few empty noodle pots strewn about and a well-tended but questionable looking plant on the windowsill, ("It's an Acer, I swear!") but what grabbed her attention and held it was the notice-board on the far wall, literally crammed and overflowing with photo's and other paraphernalia.

Tickets and flyers to tournaments and baseball games, an old wedding invitation now slightly damaged around the edges, postcards and cut out newspaper articles. The photo's themselves were filled with dozens of happy smiling people, laughing or drunk or narrowly dodging a stream of bullets from an irate looking blonde woman. She knew them all; she could name them all and tell you all of their greatest strengths and darkest secrets. All thanks to the steady stream of files sitting at the back of her head.  
She lifted some of the pictures to find other ones hidden beneath them, to see a blue-haired young woman beaming back at her, Maron, the little red letters behind her eyes told her, the one they'd mentioned the other day. He was in the photo too, looking ecstatic. Lucky boy. He looked completely thrilled and wonderfully … comfortable; _he's never like that around me. He's always so…awkward… _Actually, thought 18 as she peered around the photos with him and other women, he seemed almost like a different person.  
At ease.  
Around her he could always see a glint of worry or fear or… something… in his eyes. She curled her lip at the blue haired woman in the picture and covered her back over with a photo of two of Krillin's male friends drunkenly smooching him on each cheek, whilst he stared into the lens, clearly horrified.

The android turned away from the notice-board. It was so full of memories. And she… wasn't… and it made her feel…. Well… she really had no idea what it made her feel… just the simple fact that it made her feel anything was incentive enough for her to want to move as far away from it as possible. However, he exit was barred as her brother lollopped in. He barged past to throw himself upon the bed. "Ooo. Bouncy. I'm actually surprised the sheets aren't rock solid."

"That's vile."

"So is your face." He paused for a moment, rattling thought the bedside cabinet and flicking the lamp on and off. "I'm bored."

"I thought you we're watching TV?"

"Nothing on. What you doing in here anyway? Rifling for dirty underwear?"

"urgh. I hate you."

"Why on earth would he have a poster of a pinup girl on a car and of 'Singing in the Rain' on the same wall? That's just making my sexuality files go all wonky- hello. What's this?" He rolled off the mattress and slinked over to the notice-board.

"It's just… Scooby Gang stuff. I'm going downstairs."

"Uh-huh." He barely noticed his sister leave the room. After perusing it, unlike his sister, 17 was very aware of what it made him feel, and so very strongly.

...

* * *

How on earth was he going to pull this off?

His head was telling him to stick to 'the plan', but he was finding it difficult. He doubted he even had it in him. The 'plan' itself was simple enough – she wanted a nice guy? He'd be the biggest douche bag ever.

Or so he thought.

It was... harder to do then expected. He thought he'd just channel Vegeta... maybe one of those horrifically stereotypical jock characters from teenage rom-coms... but then he was there with her, chatting, making jokes and he just...felt wrong even trying. He couldn't even lounge in his chair in any particularly rebellious manner, which was more than just a little bit sad.

As he sat in the nice little chair and stirred the lemon into his ice-tea, Krillin had his first real look at Majon in daylight.

She was really quite attractive in an unconventional, non-human sort of way. In all honesty he'd never met a demon who hadn't wanted to/ tried to/ succeeded in an attempt to kill him, let alone a female, for that matter, so his concept of gauging demon attractiveness wasn't very informed. Unless he counted that one rather confusing dream he'd had about Piccolo that reminded him a person's sexuality was never set in stone. But I digress.

He watched her fuss about with her coffee: add sugar, stir, adding cream, stir, cinnamon dust...

She had a sharp face, angular, framed by wispy unruly hair that he could now see was more white than blonde. Small black horns poking out of the top of her fringe, less scary in the daytime.

Tearing another sugar sachet open with sharp white teeth she caught his gaze and flashed him a smile. Warm and sincere.

Almond-shaped eyes framed with dark, dark lashes, and a long straight nose with no hint at all of the usual button at the end. Exotic and aquiline and sharp. But it was her lips that made a blush come to his face, not her eyes or her long long legs or the curve of her thick hips in those clinging jeans. Looking at her lips could make him forget about the little wings and the pointed ears and the thin swishing tail... They were things of beauty – full and plump and naturally dark. Chewed and bitten with worry. Lived-in lips. Lips for kissing. Mending.

Oh bugger, thought Krillin, he did actually fancy her. Well, if you ignored the craziness. Which in all honesty… you really couldn't.

They'd been sitting at a table outside of some cute little bijou cafe for the best part of an hour. Apologies and silly small-talk had been made, and Krillin had attempted to glean as much information as he could from the blue woman opposite him. Anything he could use. He'd already been told she was Akkuman's sister, older or younger he had yet to discover.  
Apparently a bit of a delinquent in her youth, now a business woman. Just how old was she exactly? From what he could guess, around his own age... but you could never really tell with demons... she could be 200 for all he knew.  
She'd asked him about his life and he'd given her a rather edited account. No mention of space or trying to help save the world... nothing that might impress her in any way. Not that it usually worked with any other women... but he wasn't willing to risk the potential hero/nice-guy allure. If he couldn't pass himself off as a dickhead he might as well go for the useless and cowardly angle.

He took a swig of his tea "... but anyway, I've pretty much given up on fighting. It just seemed sorta pointless..."

"Without your friend by your side?" The demon woman asked earnestly, an expression of sympathy across her face. Krillin flinched. He hadn't mentioned that, had he? Had she worked that much out on her own?  
"Um, yeah."  
She reached over the table and squeezed his hand with her own. Almost unnoticeably, Krillin jumped at the unexpected contact. Should a demon's hand be that soft?  
He decided to be brave. To bring up the elephant in the proverbial room.  
"So what made you make the bet, Majon? What happened?"  
She appeared to be a little surprised at his question, but then stirred her drink thoughtfully and launched into the tale.

"Ah, I suppose I owe you an explanation. It's…. predictable. I'd been in a relationship with this guy (who I'll refrain from naming, because he's a prick) and we'd been going steady for about a year or so. And of course at the beginning everything's all rainbows and unicorns, and then things just went downhill. That…that's seriously the only way I can describe it." She made a downwards motion with her hand, "things started falling to shit. But um, you've gotta remember, demon relationships aren't all fluffy and Jane Austen; the rainbow and unicorns I mentioned are more like… rainbow's are on fire and unicorns that will eat you if you present them with the wrong sort of anniversary gift. So… yeah, it was pretty hectic even excluding when he started shagging other women…

… It was passionate, messy and really kinda…Bonnie and Clyde. He was all dark and mysterious and badass…and I really thought he loved me. Don't know why really. He was no different to the other idiots I've dated. Dickheads, emotional retards, complete and utter fuckwits. I don't seem to attract the nicest of men. I was, well, head over heels and when it did finally fall to pieces, and he walked out… I was devastated. I still, I mean, it stung y'know? And of course after crying in pyjamas and eating more brioche than anyone ever should, I got all, angry about it and I suppose I just kind of hit that weird wall you get to where you really don't care what you do or how stupid you look or even what trouble it'll all cause in the long run…which inevitably led to the aforementioned bet. And the rest, as they say, is history."

Krillin let it sink in. He remembered just how awful he'd felt when he'd broken up with Maron, even though he'd been the one to break it off – it hadn't stopped him being a complete and utter mess for a couple of months afterwards. Actually, when he thought about it, he'd done some pretty stupid things at the time. He'd thought about rejoining the Orin Temple. Hadn't he tried to grow a beard? Oh god, he had. _Yes_, said his brain, _you also propositioned Launch during a post-Garlic Junior 'thank-god-he-didn't-win-because-lets-face-it-after-frieza-that-would've-been-a-sucky-way-to-have-been-defeated' party. You barely made it out alive. _Good Lord he thought he'd successfully managed to block that memory out. Touché, brain. Touché.

"Huh," He simply replied, "That makes a bit more sense."

….

* * *

"17?"

His sister's face was almost unreadable. "Are you alright?"

That question hit him like a tonne of bricks. What on earth is she talking about? There was concern written in the faint lines of her brow. He turned his attention to the notice-board again. Oh.  
It wasn't on the wall. It was thrown across the room and smashed against the wall, loose paper and photo's floating down to the floor about him.  
17 looked as confused by this as 18 was. Though why was anyone's guess, she should be used to his random acts of destruction by now. His bright blue eyes narrowed at the heap of Krillin's memories in front of him.

"17." His sister caught his attention.

"...what?"

She was staring at him intently, giving him that odd look she often gave him. Almost worried. Almost pained. "You're- You're upset...17 you're crying." And it was true. She could see the tell-tale shine in the androids usually lifeless eyes, the red puffiness starting to appear under his eyes, wet marks on his cheeks. The man himself, he'd made no noise, no sobs or sniffling. He looked for all the world as if his eyes were simply watering... a bad run in with some chopped onions... but she knew. She's seen it before. His sister simply stood there, quietly watching him, assessing the situation.

The android remained silent for a moment, and then his face broke into that very bored, very dangerous smile he seemed to favour. He looked at his sister and stated, matter-of-factly, "I did it again didn't I?"

"What happened?" She stalked across the room over to him, leaning close and staring into his face. Her brother rolled his eyes.

"Nothing. Nothing happened."

"Yes it did. Just, tell me – "

"I was looking at all of that stupid stuff and I was thinking. Hey, this all looks nice. We should have photos of all our wacky childhood misadventures, but we don't… and then that turned into isn't it weird that we know all of these people's name but we don't even know our own."

18 sighed, "Then you got angry?"

"…and sad, and jealous and all those other ones people keep mentioning." He looked calmer now, face back to its blank and bored mask. She turned to look at the mess on the floor. "It's getting tedious."

"They're getting more frequent."

"With you too?"

"I started laughing in the shower yesterday, so hard I couldn't breathe. At soap. Just soap. Well, it was novelty boob shaped soap, but still. Soap."

"That's what that noise was?"

The female twin picked up the notice board and threw it on the bed, deep in thought.

"We need to find out what's going on."

…..

* * *

He was cuter in the daylight. Thank god for that. The nose thing was still an issue though. How on earth did that even..? Never mind.

She was mentally checking off a list. Still short, yes. But not as tiny as he had looked standing next to Ma Junior. Not as bald as she'd hoped but the buzz cut wasn't too bad. Big puppy dog eyes: check. A taste in shirts that screamed ice cream and springtime. Cute.  
Not bad Majon, not bad at all.

She'd gotten him talking about anything and everything, there were a few pieces of information Zeezee had gotten hold of for her. Ties to the almighty Capsule Corp, an ex-girlfriend, his best friend had recently died in the whole Cell incident. Ouch.  
It seemed as though the Pig and Mister Master Roshi had described him pretty accurately. Genuinely nice, friendly and well-meaning. She'd wondered if he'd try and pull something like acting the complete and utter dickhead to try and put her off, since she'd mentioned her original intention was to pull a 'nice-guy'. But no. No such attempts.  
A proper little gentlemen.  
But one thing caught her attention more than others, he mentioned one person a lot. Son Gohan. According to Zeezee, his recently deceased bestie's son was Son Gohan. He apparently had a brilliant relationship with the boy. So, add that to the list; all dutiful and big brotherly and good with kids. That would be definitely good in the long run.

Eeeeep. The more they talked, the more she liked him. Majon was even starting to forgive and forget the little incident in her bar. Bringing the ex-demon king along, feh! Who cared! Look at the way his eyes crinkled up when he laughed.

_Oh but wait, _came that insidious voice in the back of her skull. _He still hasn't told you everything has he?  
_She paused mid sip as she remembered the barmaid. She'd sat there like and idiot, letting him charm her… oof! She wondered where that little blonde bitch was now. Probably seducing clientele in another bar, stealing other people's pet boyfriends.  
_What if he's still seeing her? It wouldn't be the first man who'd done that to you…_

Krillin could see Majon's demeanour changing before his eyes. As he had been chatting away about movies and other such innocuous things he'd seen something flash through her expression and her body language had suddenly gotten a lot more… guarded. Annoyed? What could he have said? Maybe he was talking too much?

"So what's _your_ favourite film?"

She snapped right out of it. "Huh?"

"Your favourite film. I gave you mine, your turn, "he smiled broadly. Then realised he probably should have named some horrific porn movie or something to try and put her off, Kami, he was just no good at this. Okay, promise me you won't laugh."

"I'll try my best."

"It's The King and I."

"...really?"

"Demons can't like musicals?"

"The King and I?"

"I've always had a thing for the guy who played the King."

Well, thought the monk. That would explain why she prefers them bald.

...

* * *

They talked until it got dark, but Krillin noticed that something about Majon had changed. The slight hint of craziness that had remained hidden for most of the afternoon looked as if it had resurfaced slightly and was bubbling away under the surface. She was obviously caught up on something but he still couldn't figure out what.

He still hadn't done anything to put her off apart from make several bad jokes (that he'd honestly thought were good ones), admit that he didn't like dolphins (much to her abject horror) and finally manage to sit in a somewhat rebellious manner. But then his leg had gone to sleep so he'd had to sit properly again. How badass.

They both got up to leave after making plans to meet up again for a Baseball game, praying Yamcha could get him tickets again.

"This," said the demon-woman, smiling in a feline manner, "went a lot better than expected."  
And with that, she bent down and kissed him on the cheek, before walking off into the cold night air, hips swaying and wings unfurling.  
Krillin stood stock still outside the little bistro for a moment or two, blushing profusely. The with a silly smile, took off into the sky, home.

…..

* * *

He was cornered the second he returned home, and suddenly it was as if he were on that mountain road again, two killer androids in front of him, looming. Only this time the figure of Android 16 was Master Roshi and Oolong combined, vaguely interested in what he had to tell them about the 'anti-date'.

"Uh, hi guys."

The female twin tucked loose strands of hair behind her ear and took what appeared to Krillin to be a deep breath. "Back when we were all enemies; the remote control you had. Where did you get it?"

"The remote?" He looked over at 17 who was simply toying with his scarf. "Um… Bulma made it, back during the Cell incident…"

"We thought as much. How did she make it? Did she have files or something?" She looked very serious, Krillin noticed. Uh-oh.

"Blueprints."

"Blueprints?" The androids exchanged looks and nodded, " We need to see her and them. Now."

* * *

_Hope you liked it.I know not much happened... soon my pets. sooooooon.  
__The next chapter probably wont be up until after June. But stay tuned!_

_As always, any constructive criticism/questions/comments are greatly appreciated. _


	8. wires

_So I got that finished quicker than I thought. Hurrah! Hope everyone is still enjoying the story. Thanks everyone for all your feedback - it really makes my day.  
Wow... 8 chapters already? My original plan only had about 10. I'm only about halfway-ish now. _

**_Fools Fall In: Chapter 8_**

_"You've been hanging with the unloved kids,  
So you never really liked and you never trusted  
But you are so magnetic - you pick up all the pins.  
Never committing to anything,  
You don't pick up the phone when it ring ring rings  
Don't be so pathetic - just open up and sing." - Marina and the Diamonds_

* * *

"Wha…what?"

"Bulma. Blueprints. Now."

Krillin caught the eyes of Roshi and Oolong, who both simply shrugged. The old Master looking distinctly more concerned then the shape shifting pig. Krillin met her eyes again. He had no idea what this was about – but he could tell that the twins were a little unsettled (how exactly? Was he suddenly an expert on teenage robots now? That wasn't weird at all, he thought, with a grimace).

"We won't be able to see her tonight, she'll be busy...and you'll probably have to deal with a grumpy Vegeta. We can go tomorrow… if you like." He added as he saw a frown reach her face.  
17 just yawned and shrugged, announced "Whatever" and said that he couldn't be bothered tonight anyway.  
"Fine," said his sister coldly, more at him than at Krillin, "tomorrow then. First thing." She added, prodding the monk rather solidly in the chest.  
The shorter man held up his hands "Promise!" and with that she stomped off into the kitchen.  
Krillin looked up at the dark-haired twin, "Can I ask why we have to go to Bulma's?"  
"No." He said simply and made his own way upstairs.  
"Oh, okay then." Krillin replied lamely, hanging his head in defeat.

"So then - what happened?" came a croaky aged voice from across the room. Master Roshi had muted the television and was giving him his semi-undivided attention.  
"Yeah," said Oolong, "How'd it go? You scare her off?"  
Their housemate sat down on the couch next to them and let out a huge sigh. He admitted his utter failure at 'the plan', his inability to be consciously mean and his lack of progress in the whole 'find some sort of loophole forward slash way out' thing. But. But, but, but, apart from that. It had been…nice. Pleasant. She hadn't been as axe-crazy as he'd thought she'd be, or as scary as he'd remembered. Sure she'd spaced out a couple of times when he'd been talking (at this Oolong remarked that he couldn't blame her) only to click back into focus with a rather… baleful look, but all in all it had been a nice date.

Roshi had listened intently to his young ex-student talk, only to speak up now, "But Krillin, it wasn't supposed to be a _date_ date though was it? You weren't supposed to have a nice time. You sound as if you, well, _like_ her."  
Krillin balked at this. True, the original idea had been entailed that neither person should've ended the date thinking _'Ooo, well that was lovely, I'd like to see him or her again' _but alas and alack there had been a small stirring of attraction and of course (his greatest nemesis) a small kiss on the cheek. His Kryptonite. Physical contact. _From a real woman, with breasts and everything.  
_He slumped back into his seat.  
"I… don't know what to do."

The old master smiled at his friend over his dark glasses. "You've still got a long time to figure this out, and remember you've got all of us to help you."  
Krillin managed a weak smile, "Thanks Master Roshi."  
Shaking his head, he patted Krillin on the shoulder. "A woman's heart is as fickle as the autumn sky."  
Oolong snorted. "Where'd the hell did you hear that piece of crap?"  
"I read it somewhere. It doesn't matter, Krillin, because right now there are more important things to worry about."

"Oh? Oh. Yeah, the Androids." The monk nodded darkly, pushing away troubled thoughts on the demoness.  
The shape shifting pig fiddled with the batteries in the television remote unconsciously, "What d'ya think _that's_ about? Why would they want to go see old pissy-legs for anyway?"  
His friend's gaze turned pointedly to the kitchen door, "I have no idea."

As contrived coincidence would have it; immediately following that statement, on the television screen a woman named Sarah Connor was promptly shot in the head by a T-800.

* * *

He wandered in to the kitchen later that night after having reattached his notice board to his bedroom wall, still pondering on the twin's odd demands when Krillin was stopped dead in his tracks by perhaps the most wonderful thing he'd ever seen. Better then the first time he'd seen Kame House, better than that one time he'd raided Yamcha's mobile phone and happened upon a compromising photo or three of Bulma.

18, from what he could tell, was under the impression that she was completely alone and everybody else was asleep. She was flicking through one of the house's more questionable magazines whilst simultaneously munching on an apple, quite happily singing and dancing to the muffled yet audible music blasting from a pair of headphones.  
Krillin leant on the doorframe. God she was beautiful.  
Radiant… Graceful…. An awful, awful singer.  
The sad thing was that it looked for all the world as if she were truly putting her heart and soul into belting out the song, obviously unaware of just how loud she was being. Tragic. But god it was an enthralling show; at one particular crescendo in the music she thrashed her hair around and mimed playing drums, eyes screwed shut –happy. She looked so… contented.

For a few moments he forgot that she wasn't completely human. Forgot that her name was an allocated number as opposed to a lovingly chosen title. Even forgot that anything really existed outside of the room she pirouetted and screeched in.  
And then he scooted back out of the room before she noticed him, before the music would stop and the indifferent mask returned. She deserved her moments of happiness. She deserved that much.

* * *

When Krillin turned up at Capsule Corp the next day with two distinctly surly looking robots, one of whom who had previously beaten the living daylights out of her partner and son-from-the-future and the other who was sporting a scarf and socks that could only be described as proof of no benevolent God, Bulma was less than impressed.

After 10 minutes or so of sparse and uncomfortable explanations on the androids' part as to why they were there, Bulma had significantly lightened up and was in the mood for a puzzle. Krillin listened intently as the Twin's succinctly relayed to the heiress forward-slash scientist extraordinaire: they had a problem. They knew she had blueprints. They knew she had to ability to fix whatever was wrong with their wiring.

Bulma nodded along, "I have 17's blueprints, not yours 18 – but I expect they would be pretty similar. The thing is that your going to have to tell me the" she gestured wildly, "symptoms, otherwise I won't be able to know where the problem originates."  
Krillin simply sat on the workbench beside her, swinging his legs. _She sure seemed to be taking the Androids in her stride_, he thought to himself, _but then again, she had worked with 16_.

17 scowled. "Can't you just scan us or something?"  
But the blue-haired woman shook her head. "Nope. It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. You've gotta give me something to work with other than 'um yeah, so we think we have some loose wires or something, fix it thanks'."  
The dark haired man was about to snark back when his sister cut him off, "Look. I want this over and done with and fixed. I think its corrupt files." Her gaze flickered to Krillin and a small blush came to her cheeks. "Whatever it is has been affecting our emotions."  
Bulma put a finger to her chin, "Your _emotions_?"

"We've been having mood swings … but they're getting more frequent… and stronger too. We can go from completely fine one moment and then next thing you know he's bawling like a little girl in a clothes shop because and I quote: 'that t-shirt is **Just. So. Stripey.**' It doesn't…. It never happened before… before… well…" She looked pointedly at Krillin, "Cell."

The other woman nodded along and then turned towards the computer screen on the workbench, clicking and typing before bringing up the file on 17's blueprints.  
"Right then, so that narrow's it down. We're looking in the brain…. There…. Probably…" she said, pointing at something on the screen, more to herself then the others. She had her scientist head on and by god she was going to have this one figured out by the end of the day. There was a silence as she browsed the image.

"In my defence it _was_ an incredibly stripey t-shirt."

The rest of the morning was spent with Bulma essentially digging around in both the blueprints and the androids heads. Unfortunately for her the first problem arose when she discovered that she couldn't actually inspect 17 and 18's brains without surgery, the second problem popping up when she realised that she couldn't then CAT scan them. However, with some prodding and poking around with the machine, she managed to alter it so the magnets wouldn't rip any internal metal out of their skulls. Needless to say, the twins were still rather uncomfortable using it.  
"Of course it will work!"

"I don't know… I'm sure science doesn't work that way."

"Shush."

One hour and 24 minutes later, Bulma tapped her chart and exclaimed that she had the answer. The solution. Eureka and all that jazz. 17, 18 and Krillin all sat quietly as she explained, with ridiculously complicated scientific words and equations, why the androids had been having so much trouble with controlling their moods and emotions recently. None of the three sitting there in the workshop understood a single word she said. Until the end that was.  
"…replace the missing piece!"

18 sat up straight. "What missing piece?"  
The heiress threw her arms up in mock despair, "Nobody ever listens to anything I say! Nobody!"  
Krillin rolled his eyes at her over his coffee cup. "That's because nobody understands anything you say. Just tell us in layman's terms please."  
She plonked herself down on a swivel chair and glided over towards the two cyborgs.

"Look. It's complicated, but essentially, it isn't a problem with your brains or corrupt files. From the notes on the blueprints I can see that prior to the whole… Cell incident that neither of you were able to feel strong emotions, except for say fear (for self-preservation). But everything else was… muffled. Am I right?"  
17 stayed silent, but 18 nodded. Bulma continued, "When I delved deeper into the blueprint files I found out there was something actively doing that. Muffling and controlling your emotions; an _Inhibitor_ device, attached to another device inside your body. But when I scanned you… it… wasn't there."

"What do you mean it wasn't there? It couldn't have just dissap-" 18 stopped and clenched her fists, "_Which_ device was it attached to?"  
Krillin gulped. He knew the answer.

"A bomb." Stated Bulma, flatly.

The blonde woman spun round at Krillin fury in her eyes and a raised fist."I **knew** this was your fault!"  
The monk flinched but surprisingly no blow came. She stood there, fist still clenched ready to knock his head off his shoulders, death-glare on her pretty face. After a moment, she sighed, dropped her hand and turned to Bulma with a very tired expression.  
"So can you fix this?"

Bulma frowned and put down her clipboard. "Yes and no. I could give making a new one a go. Though it could take a while…. But... I don't think replacing them is the best thing. I mean the mood swings are only causing you problems because you're not used to them. I mean, without the Inhibitor, given enough time, your emotions will eventually fully return and level out. You just need help in dealing with them naturally."  
17 spoke up at last, "What do you mean naturally?" He still looked slightly confused.  
Bulma grinned, "I'm suggesting Therapy!"

There was a loud bang as Krillin fell off his perch on the workbench.

* * *

"How long do you think it will take them?"

"What, to make a decision? Probably quite a while, "said Bulma as she picked up Trunks from his highchair, "I mean it's an important decision…"

The monk simply nodded in agreement and took a sip of his coffee. He'd had no idea what they'd been going through. Neither of them had mentioned a thing. And now they were both sat down in the workshop trying to figure out what they were going to do.  
Ugh, and it was all his fault. If he hadn't have wished those bombs away, neither 18 nor her brother would have this to deal with. _Still_, came a little voice at the back of his head, _now you know she can feel. Now you know there's a chance – _Krillin brushed the thought away, scratching behind an ear. _There's no chance._

"So they're _living_ with you?" Bulma readjusted the baby on her hip.  
"I wouldn't call it _living_ with me. It's only been a couple of days."  
"Still it must be weird..."  
"Yeah...it's pretty… intense. But hey, you can't talk. Look at who _you're_ living with."  
Bulma raised an eyebrow, "You still got the hots for her then?"  
"Eh!"  
"Gohan."  
"Damn him. Pubescent little git." Scowled Krillin as he watched Bulma try and wrest a clump of her hair from a tiny vice-like grip. ("No Trunks let go of mommy's hair. OW!")

"So anyway, veering away from the hot blonde subject - how did the date go with Majon anyway? Is she still crazy?"  
"It went… fine. She didn't seem all that insane to be honest, just a bit… calculating."  
"Calculating…like plotting?"  
"I don't know, Bulma. I just…" He sighed.  
"You're gonna work this out, okay? It's gonna be alright."  
Every so often, Bulma reminded him why he loved her so much.  
"Thanks Bulma."  
"You're welcome. Now could you help me out and change the baby while I find the milk formulae?"  
He took Trunks from her and grumbled to himself, "You're such a moment killer."  
"What?"  
"Nothing—oh god. Ohhhhh. Oh you hell-spawn you."

About five or so minutes after Krillin had barely succeeded in changing a very stubborn and annoyed infant, and Bulma had managed to stop laughing at him, the two cyborgs entered the kitchen. Android 18 brushed silky hair behind her ear and shrugged. "We don't want the Inhibitors replaced."  
Bulma threw up her arms in victory.  
"But – we don't want therapy."

"Awwww really? But he's really good! Fine with all the insanity of robots and magic and aliens and everything! He's our company therapist."

Krillin scrunched up his face at her. "You have a company therapist?"

"Well yeah my lawyers said we had to get one after the last 'summoning Shenlong on the Capsule Corp grounds' incident."

"Still no."

Bulma was not a person who was told no often. She was most definitely going to get her way.  
"Tell you what. You two can meet him, and then decide."

"We've already decided." 18 was starting to lose her patience. Krillin had a vision of her strangling Bulma, if only to get her to shut up."So, no."

* * *

As they walked along the corridors of Caspule Corp alongside Bulma and Krillin, 17 wondered how on earth the blue-haired woman had managed to bully them into meeting the therapist.  
Like he would ever sit through a therapy session anyway, the image it invoked was comical. Lying on a worn couch as some dumpy balding psychologist asked him about his relationship with his father – or better yet – group therapy! Yeah. With 18. They could finally perfect their impression of those creepy twins from The Shining.

"Excuse me. Sorry!" came an agitated voice from behind him, and a rather dishevelled looking man in a moss green shirt pushed past at a fast pace.  
"Pardon me, coming through. Morning Miss Briefs."  
The young man froze and spun around, juggling the files in his arms.  
"More like afternoon, Dr. Castaña. Late, perchance?" His employer gestured towards the clock on the wall. His face flushed with red, "Sorry about that. The courtesy car lost a wheel. It is literally the biggest piece of wank-"  
"It's a Capsule Corp courtesy car."  
"-ingly wonderful machinery ever built." She would have scowled at him had he not broken into the cheesiest grin she'd ever seen.

Bulma took the folders out of his arms and nodded at the Therapist's office door. As the now unveiled therapist fumbled with his keys to unlock the door, Krillin took the opportunity to scope the man out. The fact that if 18 agreed to this venture, she'd be therefore spending a fair amount of time alone with this man made his stomach flip over. He was probably the most awkwardly beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Tall. Very tall, maybe as tall as Goku had been, with thick brunette hair that somehow 'flopped' but still managed to be rather manly. Krillin ran a hand over his own bristly head. The young man was slender and on closer inspection much more well-groomed than previously noted. With deep brown eyes and tanned skin, as well as a very large but perfect nose, the smaller man felt something akin to inadequacy standing next to the therapist.

As his attention turned to the blonde, he grimaced silently. She was gazing at the other man, head tilted ever so slightly to the side. As if she was considering something. Something that put a faint flush of pink in her cheek.  
_Goddammit._

Bulma still hadn't shut up, even as they entered the office. "So have the police gotten any further with leads?"  
"They don't need to. Woke up the other morning to find it in a smouldering wreck in my back garden! They returned it! Who _does_ that?"  
No-one but 18 noticed 17's eyes widen in shock and amusement. His mouth slowly started to form a smirk, then a smile, then a grin.  
"They gave you your van back?"  
"Yeah but only after they destroyed the poor thing," he took the folders back off her, "they even left me a note. Anyway… so how can I help?"

On this cue, 17 flopped onto the leather sofa near the desk and happily declared: "I'm here for the therapy! I am a robot, I wish to be a real boy and you sir shall be my guide."  
Dr. Castaña plonked the files onto his desk and raised his eyebrows at the other man. "Sounds like I've got my work cut out for me then," he looked at Bulma, who started she'd discuss the details. The young doctor leaned back against his desk, ran his fingers through his hair, pushed his sleeves up over his forearms and smiled heartily at 18.  
"You too huh?"  
She smiled faintly back and tucked blonde locks behind her ear.  
"What's that noise? Is someone grinding their teeth?"

"By the way," Said Dr. Castaña as he pulled out a fresh pad of paper from a drawer, "You don't need to call me doctor. Please just call me Ché."  
17 appeared beside him, more than definitely violating some unwritten code of personal space. "Well then Ché, I'm 17 and this is 18. I wonder, did you ever get that bumper fixed?"

* * *

_Mwahahahaa. Anyway, I hope this chapter wasnt too dull, I know not much happened so forgive me. Once more, any comments, opinions, constructive criticism... I'd love to hear from you. Hell, got any predictions?  
Since I've now officially finished University (oh god oh god) the updates should (hopefully) not be to erratic. But don't hold me to it. I'm British, I'm by nature a sneaky bugger._

_Allons-y!_


	9. Supermassive black hole

_Hey guys! Sorry it's been so long. I took a break over summer and then encountered several obstacles in writing and getting the next chapter out to you. The workload of my current University course being one such thing. But thanks for sticking with me guys. All my love. But I assure you, this fic will be finished. No matter what. I've had my heart broken by far too many abandoned fics._

So. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Thank you all for all the reviews so far - I appreciate them all. As usual, any reviews, constructive criticisms, questions, anything - feel free to throw them at me. :D

**Fools Fall In: Chapter 9**

_Do I attract you, do I repulse you  
With my queasy smile?  
Am I too dirty, am I too flirty?  
Do I like what you like?  
I can be wholesome  
I can be loathesome  
Guess I'm a little bit shy,  
Why dont you like me, why dont you like me  
Without making me try? - Grace Kelly, Mika_

* * *

Krillin awoke from yet another annoyingly cryptic dream involving a psychology degree, Jessica Rabbit and malevolent slug. He didn't know why he was a white bunny in these dreams or why that little cephalopod glared at him so disparagingly with its antennae eyes. He usually woke up just as Jessica was flying away on the psychology degree certificate (which had by then grown a rather large nose) and he was being picked up by a little blue boy.  
But everyone knows dreams are mostly bullshit anyway.  
He looked at the clock. 8am. Urgh.

After a breakfast of whatever cereal the other occupants of Kame House hadn't eaten, Krillin made his way over to Goku's (or now as the case was, Chichi's) house. He helped out there sometimes, taking Chichi shopping for groceries, going on errands, opening jars; as was his only true duty as an adult male (despite the ability to transform into a super saiyan – Gohan was yet to master that ancient patriarchal rite). He didn't mind it, really, as previously he'd always been a little scared of Chichi. The woman was a force of nature. But now she was a little more sedate. A little softer with Gohan when it came to fighting and rest of it. More willing to accept the help they all had offered. And who was he not to offer?  
If he hadn't….  
He turned up the radio.

Chichi was already quite big for only being about 5 months gone, but by god that didn't slow her down. She practically floated around the kitchen, mopping and dispensing orders. Krillin readily complied. The most juvenile part of his brain told him that if he behaved himself he would get fed. _Yaaaaay.  
_"Would that be okay then?"  
"Sorry, what?" Krillin had been a little too preoccupied with whatever was in the pan he was stirring, hardly taking in what the woman was saying. She pushed her fringe out of her eyes and gestured towards her son who was outside washing the windows. They caught his eye and he grinned and waved.  
"To take him out somewhere on Thursday? Just while I'm getting my check-up? I don't like him staying home by himself." Said Chichi, continuing her mopping.  
Krillin nodded, "Sure, I always have time for Gohan. You going to be alright going by yourself?" He asked earnestly. The dark-haired woman wringed water out of the mop, an odd expression crossing her face for a moment.  
"Piccolo's driving me and I'll be fine once I'm there."  
"Oh okay. No problem. I was thinking of going to a baseball game anyway. We'll do that. I'll buy him a foam hand. 37 hotdogs. It'll be great."  
Chichi gave a little smile. "Thank you." She said, and Krillin knew she meant it.  
They worked in comfortable silence quite for a few minutes, until Krillin turned to her with a confused look.  
"Piccolo is _driving_?"  
"Loooong story."

* * *

One thing Krillin hadn't mentioned to Chichi about taking Gohan to a Baseball game was that it had previously been scheduled as another anti-date with Majon. He doubted she would appreciate her son being in such close proximity to a distinctly crazy demoness. She'd only just gotten over Piccolo. Barely.  
Chichi's appointment wasn't until later on in the day anyway, so it looked like he'd have the kid for the whole day. Might as well put him to good use, maybe he could get him to help with the whole 'try and put her off having me as a pet boyfriend' plan. Tell her embarrassing stories. Or something. Anything.  
At least the kid being there would maybe act as a barrier. Keep him concentrating on the goal. Ditch the demon.  
Plus, Yamcha was playing, which meant free tickets. And guilt-free heckling.

They met her at the entrance. She was chewing gum, and flashed them a sharp-toothed smile. No dress or heels today, but ever that subtle hint of contained bunny-boiler. Gohan studied her as they walked over and quietly murmured to Krillin, with that odd look on his face that was far too old for him: "I see what you mean."

"Gohan, Majon. Majon, this is Gohan."  
"Bonjourno sweetie pie." There was a glint in her eye as she shook the boy's hand that Gohan recognised – but couldn't quite place. "My, aren't you cute?"

* * *

"Run! Ruuuun!" Majon was almost out of her seat, screaming and flailing her paper cup of lemonade, spilling and splashing the contents everywhere. Gohan was cheering too and Krillin had to grab him and pull him back down to stop him actually taking off out of the seat. The man grinned as he looked at his young friend. It was great to see him so happy, the tired and pained air about him gone for fleeting and wonderful moments. He was healing. Slowly, but surely.

The blue woman beside him nudged him with her empty cup. "Do you think the writer has any idea what happens in a baseball game?"  
"Well, the goalie has just scored a try on second base, so I'm gonna say no. Not a clue."  
Gohan shook his head sadly, "Some people just don't care about the details."

..._hey_.

Anyway. The date was going well. Which was perhaps the opposite of what Krillin wanted. Gohan had attempted to regale Majon with stories of Krillin's stupidity and cowardice, but she'd only giggled and found them endearing. At one point, when Gohan had gone to the bathroom, Majon told Krillin how impressed she was at his taking Gohan under his wing, blushing and moving in closer to him. Uh oh. The child barrier had backfired. It was only making him more desirable. The single-father angle; that weird double standard. Bugger bugger. Wait. Was her hand on his leg?

Krillin mouthed silent praises to Dende as Gohan returned not a moment too soon and plonked himself directly between them. He'd buy him ice-cream for this.  
And as luck would have it, very little else happened for the rest of the game.

"Are you sure we're allowed down here?" Asked the demoness as they made their way down to the field-side and the changing rooms after the match.  
"This is the beauty of knowing one of the star players. Unlimited access."  
"Who do you know?" Majon asked around the last morsel of hotdog. But her question was soon answered when a damp haired Yamcha appeared around the corner, grinning inanely over his team's victory. The ex-monk had pre-warned him about Majon being there. "Hey guys! How'd you enjoy the game?"  
"Awesome Yamcha." Trilled Gohan, whilst Krillin rolled his eyes.  
"Yeah, I especially loved the bit where you disappeared at first base and suddenly reappeared at 4th."  
"I'm just very talented."  
Majon laughed softly beside him, and he startled and blushed. There followed a somewhat awkward conversation involving reminding Majon who Yamcha was (oh yes, she'd said, she recognised him from the security tapes), more blushing accompanied by incredulous looks from Krillin and apologising for damage to the _Rakshasa._

After a few minutes, Majon excused herself, which gave Krillin time to fill Yamcha in on what had happened. Gohan frowned a little at the retreating figure.  
"… I mean I'm usually brilliant at scaring women off… but I seem to be doing something right here. Which I mean would be great but…"  
Yamcha took a swig from his water bottle and raised an eyebrow, "but it's the wrong girl."  
Krillin looked up; both Gohan and Yamcha were watching him with somewhat pitying expressions on their faces. Great.  
But they were right. It was all going terribly right in all the wrong places. The woman sitting next to him, hand on his leg today should've been yellow haired and sarcastic. 18. Ha, if only.  
He exhaled a rather melancholy sigh, an acquiescent smile playing on his lips, "Guys, this is driving me insane. I think I love her."

Around the corner, returning from the bathroom, Majon leant heavily on the wall, hand clasped over her chest. And she couldn't help but grin.

* * *

Majon had left soon after the game, as she'd had an appointment to keep. She'd call him soon.  
When Krillin finally returned home, he found 18 in the kitchen. This worried him slightly.

"What are you doing," he asked, rather warily. 18 regarded him for a moment through a cloud of self-raising flour.  
"As part of my therapy" (at this she shot him a look filling with unabashed disgust) "Che told me that I might like to try and find something I enjoy. Then whenever I get all, y' know, I can do that to take my mind off it."  
"You mean a hobby. He recommended you get a hobby. Wow. This guy is truly top notch," said Krillin in a rather sarcastic tone.  
"So," she went on, loudly, as if to block out his comment, "I chose baking."  
He passed her a tub of margarine with a bemused look on his face. "You look… happy."  
"It's working then."  
The cyborg raised an eyebrow at him then looked back at the recipe book. Then at the scales, then at the flour, the book and back to the scales again. She then tipped the entire bag into the bowl with a PWOOMPF.  
She looked oddly domestic and serene as she attempted to bake, and the calm she found in it lasted almost an hour until she managed to somehow set the icing sugar on fire.  
"Do you want some help with that?" Krillin asked, prodding the blackened lump of what _may_ have once been a sponge cake. 18 was stabbing at a baking tray; sprinkles and what may have been currants in her hair.

"! WHO EVEN LIKES CUPCAKES? 12 YEAR OLD GIRLS AND HIPSTERS! THAT'S WHO! -DAMN THEM! DAMN AAAAALLLLLL THE CUPACAKES!"

"…is _that_ what you were making? Here, gimme that," he reached over and prised the spatula from her hands, "look its easy."  
18 gave him an amused look and moved one of the bowls towards the dark-eyed man. He started stirring the contents, adding extra ingredients here and there. She held back a giggle as he winked at her, "watch and learn Blondie, watch and learn."

"Oof, you're so manly….here…put this apron on."

Soon they were sat in the kitchen with the smell of baking in the air and the burnt 'cupcakes' dumped in the rubbish; eating leftover icing with wooden spoons. They said little, enjoying the moment. She was comfortable and contented and, as 18 would later realise, oddly bemusingly, enjoying his company.

"I can make scones too."  
"Badass." She smiled, his heart skipped a beat.  
"Hells yeah." He grinned back, and her heart did something similar.  
When she thought back to it she put it down, however, to her missing inhibitor. Most definitely not the puppy-dog eyed, lilac apron clad, fuzz-headed man beside her. Nope. Not at all.

* * *

"What about, "said Gohan after a couple of minutes, "we find someone to take your place? That could work… we find a guy who'd be willing to go with Majon instead of you. She can't find fault with that, surely?"  
"That's genius, Gohan, how'd you come up with this stuff?" Said Yamcha, looking significantly happier.  
Gohan looked at Bulma a little dejectedly, "People always forget that I'm clever."  
"I feel your pain, Short Round."

It was the day after and they all lay on their backs on the grass outside of Capsule Corp, shielding their faces from the sunshine with hats and hands... It was a nice day, and after the rather conflicted nature of the day before, it was a welcomed break just to lie there and talk it all out.  
"What about Trunks."  
"Yamcha, I am not offering my friend's firstborn to a demon. Besides that only works in stories."  
"No I mean, Big Trunks. Trunks from the Future, all sad-eyed and polite. She'd love him."  
Bulma re-adjusted the infant lying on her chest and stomach. "How 'bout no."  
"Stop trying to get rid of your ex-girlfriends bastard hybrid child dude, makes you look bitter."  
"You're both dicks… sorry Gohan."  
"It's fine. Piccolo swears a lot…. So does mom actually…. Usually around each other."  
"Hey…What about Piccolo?"  
About 6 and a half minutes later, after they'd all stopped laughing hysterically at the very idea of Piccolo and a woman/man/anything, the group of friends and baby all drifted off into their own minds – trying to see if they could think of someone they could palm Majon off to.  
So far they seemed to be drawing blanks.

They were disturbed only when 17 sauntered out of the main building, fresh from a therapy session with that annoyingly pretty doctor, and decided he'd gate-crash their devious plan making forward slash brainstorming session.  
"We think that if we can get someone to take Krillin's place as Majon's 'pet boyfriend', he may be saved. What do you think?" asked Gohan, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand, looking up at the bored looking youth looming over him.  
"Yes," said Yamcha dryly, "Join us won't you?"  
The android wiggled into a space on the grass between him and Krillin, rubbing his chin and narrowing his eyes. "Have we ruled out Piccolo? I know my sexuality files read 'error' with him, but I'm sure you could work around that."  
"Nah, her type specifies a 'nice guy'."  
"Mr. Piccolo is nice."  
"Yeah, to you maybe. He always looks at me as if he's deciding whether or not to eat me." Bulma shuddered. Yamcha crossed his arms.  
"I still think Trunks was a good idea. He's a teenager! From a post-apocalyptic world! If anyone needed the joys of boobs, it's that poor floppy-haired bastard."  
"Bitter again."  
"That lilac-haired dude?" 17 raised an eyebrow. "I don't think boob's are on his agenda."  
"What's that supposed to mean."  
"Oh, you'll find out eventually."

They pondered on it a while longer. Gohan made a little noise, as if unsure to voice the entire sentence. Then rolled over to face Yamcha.  
"What about you?"  
"Whut."  
"You're single. Why not? You went out with Bulma, so Majon should-"  
"Finish that sentence and I'll tell your mother you're doing drugs."  
Krillin grinned inanely, "Yeah Yamcha, take one for the team."  
"I can't. I've sworn off women since I had my heart broken."  
"Oh shut up you big queen."  
"You see? You see what I had to put up with?"

His shorter friend chuckled softly. Then he himself had a thought. "What about you 17? Fancy dating my hot blue owner?"  
"Not particularly."  
Gohan sat up, "Aw come on. She's not that bad. She's got quite nice boobs."  
There was a particularly awkward moment as everyone turned to look at the half-saiyan, he blushed and lay back down. Bulma grimaced, "Oh god. It's begun."  
"We're getting off topic. We have the next 6 or 7 years to deal with _that_. We have about 2 months to deal with _this_. Shall we?"

"Oh! Or! We could get her to fall in love with someone else – then she'd dump krillin!" Gohan lunged back up. Apparently he was on a roll today with the ideas.  
"Nope. She's bound by the demon promise thingy too."  
The blue haired woman chirped, passing her baby to the boy. "I dunno, I think he might be onto something there – what's that they say in all the movies? Love conquers everything?"  
"You'd think that wouldn't you?"  
"Bitter."

* * *

They sat there in the sun for what felt like the entire afternoon. Krillin repeatedly looking at his watch, only really half listening to Gohan's attempts to solve his problem. Bless him. The ex-monk turned to 17 who seemed to be half asleep, still nonchalantly lying in the middle of a group of people who'd been trying to kill him only a few months previously. He tried to sound casual.

"Where's 18?"  
The android opened a cool eye, "She's in with the therapist."  
"Again?" He rubbed his stubbly head.  
"Sad brown eyes and romantic lead hair are the major reasons I think." Said the twin languorously.  
"I don't think he's that attractive." Came Krillin's huffy reply. Bulma looked on, bemused. 17 continued, well aware of why the smaller man was so interested.  
"He's dreamy. And he has a nose. A big nose."  
"It's too big."  
"You can't have too big."  
"Yes you can, his is far too big. You can hurt someone with that."  
"You're just jealous."  
"Are you both still talking about noses?"

* * *

Dr. Castaña, after his fourth session with 17, was still in the process of trying to decide whether the youth was actually under the illusion he was a robot, simply trolling him, or actually was a robot. Or cyborg. Or something.  
Life had been so much simpler before he'd gotten this job. At least the sister was simpler to deal with.  
So much simpler.

18 wandered out of her therapy session late (14 minutes and 37 seconds according to Krillin's watch) smiling brightly, with a pink flush to her cheeks and a girlish bounce in her step. The monk noticed, fiddling conspicuously with the drinks can in his hand.  
"What do they do in there?" he grumbled darkly.  
"Make passionate and sticky love on the desk." Yawned Bulma (somewhat unhelpfully).  
17 smirked.  
"What do you look so pleased about?"  
He simply smirked even harder.

Krillin watched 18 as she kicked he brother then sat down beside him, staring off into the blue summer sky.

Then it hit him. Like a truck. A ton of bricks. Like one of Goku's stray left hooks.

Gohan had seen many terrifying things over the course of his short life, but nothing disturbed his as deeply as the look that was now on Krillin's face. It was positively evil. He looked as if he'd been taking lessons from Vegeta. Gohan suspected that if Krillin had pulled this expression on Namek during their run in with Frieza – it would have been a much shorter battle. Yamcha had noticed it too.  
"Oh god he's pulling his evil genius face."  
Krillin stared off into the distance, muttering something about 'two birds', before turning around and wandering off towards the main building.

* * *

About 2 hours after leaving the Baseball stadium, Majon looked at the date on her phone. A few more weeks. Just a few more weeks and all of the worrying would be over. She'd take her charming little prize and take a long break in the farthest corner of the demon realm. Do up her home. Make it cosy. Settle him in.  
But time was ticking away, making her more and more nervous. He would have to be told, before he figured it out. Before he looked at her with realisation and contempt in his eyes; realised why.  
She was such a coward.  
Why couldn't she just man up and be a demon about this? She didn't need to consider him at all. She could be cruel and heartless and…  
Majon looked at the clock. Almost her turn.

There were only two other women in the room with her; both human, one blonde and one dark-haired. The woman with ebony hair intrigued her, sitting, reading a little cooking magazine she had propped on her baby bump. Had she seen this woman before? Her face looked familiar. Maybe she was famous? Nah, thought Majon. The demoness smiled to herself, the woman looked tired but content; unconsciously placing her hand on the swell of her belly.

It was probably lucky that Chichi hadn't noticed the demon woman staring intently at her. The last thing she needed was more paranoia over demons stealing her children. Again.

As she lay back on the cold clinical bed, Majon realised that she probably should have told him earlier, at the ball game. Que Ceras.

About 30 minutes or so later, she closed the door behind her and heaved a huge sigh. Why couldn't she just…  
Everything was crumbling around her. She just wasn't… wasn't strong enough. Majon pulled the black and white ultrasound photograph out of her handbag, smiling sadly; she stroked her thumb gently over the blurry image.

* * *

_yes. well. Insert dramatic riff to your own liking.  
I hope you guys liked the chapter, and didn't see that coming a mile off. Again, any questions, theories, criticism of the constructive variety or anything at all - I appreciate all feedback._

_Thanks for sticking with me so far guys. Next chapter should hopefully be soonish. xx_


	10. Love is the drug

_Hello guys! Sorry about the wait - apparently it's difficult to become a teacher and write fanfiction at the same time. Anyhoo - Thanks for sticking with me. Hope you liked the amazingly original (cough cough) twist in last chapter.  
Also, seriously, if anyone wants to throw some reviews, constructive criticisms, questions, anything - go for it. Throw me a message or a review.  
_

**Chapter 10: also entitled Super Massive Black Hole**

_You know that I would love to see you next year_  
_I hope that I am still alive next year_  
_You know that I would love to see you in that dress_  
_I hope that I will live to see you undressed – Maximo park/Mark Ronson_

* * *

"Thursday 17th August

Patient Eighteen is what we call, in medical journals, a mystery. Despite knowing the background from my employer on both her and her sibling (twin, male, fraternal), I have yet to gain a great understanding of her.

After numerous sessions with Eighteen (18?) there has however been a small amount of progress made with her emotional stability. From our first sessions, I could see that she was struggling with her sense of identity which, coupled with her emotional needs being somewhat stunted, (brought on, as I have been told, by technological means) was potentially hazardous – especially in regards to the patients violent background.  
I have faith that the plan of action I have decided on will help her come to terms with her newly returning emotions and bring her peace and stability. Her issues with a lacking identity must first be tackled before we can use this momentum to support her emotional needs. "  
Ché stopped writing for a moment, thinking back to that morning's session with the blonde android.

_18 turned away from the Psychiatrist to look out onto the Capsule Corp grounds as she sat on the windowsill. "A name?"  
"Yes," said the doctor softly, twirling his pen through his fingers. Green eyes beaming over glasses, "I want you to give yourself a name. Anything you want – whatever feels right. The we can see if that helps."  
The blonde exhaled on the window and made a mark with her finger on the foggy pane. Thinking.  
"And if nothing feels right?"  
_Ché_ chuckled lightly, "Then we don't need to find one right away. You never know – it might come to you when you least expect it," he answered back.  
But she didn't seem to be listening anymore.  
_

* * *

Out on the grass, 18 picked apart a small flower and let the petals float off in the breeze. She wondered where Krillin had scuttled off to._  
"Can you remember anything at all?"  
18 rolled her eyes. This question again. He never gave up did he? Everything needed a place, a source. A title. Why couldn't he leave it be? What did it matter, she mused, if she didn't know her name? If she didn't know where she came from, if there was a family out there more than that idiot she called a brother.  
18 didn't have the answers and neither did anyone else. She hardly remembered even the laboratory, except in dreams. Everything else was… further away. Everything that ever came to her came in dreams; lucid and fragmented images, smells and sounds. Laughing. Perfume. And blue, blue eyes. A song on the radio would spark a fire in her brain that told her that she once kissed a boy to that song, or the smell of cake would conjure a smoky image of a small and short haired version of her brother wearing a superhero shirt, grinning and icing covered.  
She didn't like the question _Ché_ posed – it made her think and yearn. Prodded at an ache that she could never fill with the past; raw and hushed.  
Yes. She could, in a way, remember bits. Pieces. But what did it matter? What did it matter now.  
She was 18 and that was that. That was all she had and all she needed. She traced the number in the misty pane of glass. After all, it was about who she would become, not who she once was._

* * *

There was a knock at the door and Ché looked up from the computer keyboard, with a friendly "come in!" My god was he insufferable. So happy and charming. Look at him, all befuddled romcom leading man, whilst he was standing there in the doorway all short and noseless and stubble-headed. Hmph.  
"Can I help you?"  
"I need to talk to you it's very important and urgent and important."  
Ché straightened his tie, a little flustered and Krillin simply smiled in a nonchalant fashion. That was until he noticed something that hadn't been there the last time he was in the room. He tried to appear casual.  
"A new desk?"  
Ché nodded, and the other man couldn't help but notice that his ears had gone a darker shade of pink. "Um, yes. The old one, um, broke."  
The old desk was lying in a pile in the corner, looking as if it had gotten into a fight with a very angry sledgehammer and lost.  
Krillin died a little inside.

"So, what can I help you with?" asked the therapist following Krillin's gaze to the desk, "Is it something to do with 18? Or Fernando?"  
"Uh, no its …..Fernando?"  
"Long story."  
"….Right. So. Yeah. The thing is.." Krillin fell silent, he hadn't really thought of how to say this. What to ask. What would he say? Ché looked at him expectantly, then spotted someone behind the monk and waved. Krillin turned to see Bulma at the door, obviously having gotten far too curious to leave him to his evil plot. They made eye contact and suddenly he was struck with brilliance.  
"It's my friend," he turned back to Ché, "I'm worried about her. We both are, aren't we Bulma?"  
"Eh?," then she caught a pointed look from him, "Oh. Oh yes! So very worried." His friend caught on to his cunning plan within a matter of moments. Krillin was going to try and get Majon to A) meet Ché, B) fall head over heels (and tail) in love with him, and C) leave Krillin alone.  
Then they lied. Lied through their teeth. Together, as a unit, Bulma and Krillin managed to persuade the young Therapist that their mutual bestie bro-ette Majon needed some emotional support after a messy breakup. They needed a professional to talk to her, but in a non-formal environment, so she'd be more receptive. Maybe at a nice café? Or something like that. It was a seamless BFF lie.  
"She's a demon. And you know how awesome that will look on your CV."  
"I don't know…."  
"Of course, I understand if you're uncomfortable venturing away from Capsule Corp business. I could always do with your expertise with Vege—"  
"I'd be happy to help your friend."  
"Thought so."

As they wandered back to the group out on the lawn, Bulma pulled Krillin aside. "Are you sure you know what you're doing? I mean… how on earth are you going to get her to agree with that?"  
"I'll just turn on the charm."  
Krillin was more than a little insulted by the face she pulled. But she had a point. What the hell was he going to do now? How was he going to get Majon to agree to meet Ché, and even then, how could he get them to fall in love? _I mean I don't really need to get Dr. Sparklepants to fall in love with her…. I just need her to divert her attention…..  
_"What now Krillin?"  
"We make them fall in love."  
"Make them?"  
"_Persuade_ them."  
"Because love conquers everything right?"  
"Right."  
They continued on until Bulma placed a hand on his shoulder, "Wait. What about the code of conduct. You know, therapy ethics…. They can't date if she's a patient."  
"She's a demon, she doesn't care?"  
Bulma giggled. "Not a single fuck given? What about him?"  
Krillin was feeling jolly, and he grinned up at his friend, "how many fucks can he give, really?"  
"Let's ask 18." Snorted the blue –haired woman as she sauntered away to re-join the group on the grass. Krillin scrunched up his face. "Not cool, woman. Not cool."

* * *

Majon was a little shocked to say the least.  
"A Psychiatrist?"  
"A _Therapist."_  
She looked unconvinced. They sat in the rather bijou café where their first anti-date had first occurred, ice-cream on the table in front of them. It had been a less than a week after the baseball game. Majon was planning her next move when he'd blindsided her with this proposition.  
"Not that I'm saying that you're crazy or anything. Or that I think you need pro-I just mean as in…. for _closure."  
_"Closure?" She repeated tersely.  
Krillin took a deep breath, "I just think that maybe you're haven't got any closure from you're previous relationship and now suddenly we're rushing into this…"  
_We _said her brain. He said _we._  
"... and I don't think it's a particularly healthy place to start from, and, and," this was the clincher, god I hope this works, "I wouldn't feel particularly comfortable with you still being hung up on your ex."  
Majon's eyes widened momentarily and a blush of purple swept across her face. "Oh." There was a silence. She appeared to be deep in thought.  
"I suppose you have a point. I mean claiming a pet boyfriend doesn't exactly scream of a healthy reaction to getting dumped."  
Krillin's heart skipped a beat. This could work. He work get them together – intimate setting, they'd talk, therapy guy would be supportive and charming and inexplicably handsome with that nose of his and she'd fall in love with him (and if he loved her back, then mazel tov to the both of them) and then freedom and no more demons discombobulating his life up and-  
Hang on. This relies on a fair amount of luck.  
Buggery.  
"So you know someone huh?"  
"Um yeah. Top quality too. Works for Capsule Corp."  
"Wha- really? The Briefs woman?"  
Krillin giggled internally "….yyyyeeeahhhh. She's messed up. The guy got her over a messy breakup with that baseballer boyfriend she had. She was going to set fire to his house, eat his cat, tried to get pregnant. Then there was the murder suicide bid. It was all a great big mess really."  
"And he fixed that?"  
"As much as he could. She was too far gone really. Anti-psychotic medication and everything."  
"Wow you wouldn't think it when you see her on TV."  
"That's how good he is."

After about another half an hour of persuasion, Majon had finally agreed to meet this psychiatrist/therapist/whatever. It would probably be good for her, she pondered. Get her good-for-nothing ex relegated to the past once and for all – concentrate on the future.  
Oh god the future. That.  
She most definitely needed to get _that _off her chest before she imploded. And if she needed to talk to a professional (if for only the reason of figuring out how to tell her pet boyfriend) about it, then that's what she would do. She'd get sorted. Organised. Back at 100%. The _Rakshasa_ was being refurbished, Krillin looked like he was coming around to the idea of being with her and… and, well… she was going to be a mommy.  
Majon picked up her bag and put on her sunglasses holding Dr. Castaña's number in her hand; time to go. Krillin stood up, smiling, "I guarantee you won't regret this."  
She smiled that bright white grin of hers and said goodbye, see you later and I'll let you know how it goes.  
"Oh, and Krillin."  
"mmm?"  
"If you ever even slightly suggest that I'm crazy again, bear in mind I don't need you with all four limbs."  
With that, she left.  
_Aaaand we're back to crazy again_, thought Krillin.

* * *

"Well I thought it was genius."  
"That's because you're an idiot."  
"Oh I'm the idiot? Who needed my help to put up a crib?"  
Piccolo glared at him over the instructions as Gohan tried to supress a giggle. Krillin clicked the back onto the baby monitor and flipped the switch, a low buzz signalling that he'd put the batteries in the right way around. "Testing. Pineapple mint marshmallow. Oh baby baby it's a wild world, and it's hard to get by just on a sm—"  
"YES KRILLIN ITS WORKING THANKS." Came Chichi's voice from the other end.  
He then turned his attention to the pile of wood and screws on the floor, all laid out neatly, mirroring the image on the instructions. He'd been called over by Chichi to aid Gohan and Piccolo in their frankly quite pathetic attempts at constructing a crib ready for the baby.

Unable to use Gohan's old crib (damaged beyond repair by now), Chichi had charged them with being useful. It hadn't really worked. But anyway, what was more interesting was the fact that Krillin had turned up with a girl in tow. A girl looking horribly out of her comfort zone. Hmm.

"Do you think he knows he left it on?" asked 18 as she sat at kitchen table. Chichi was raiding the fridge for dinner, she looked around the door at the baby monitor lying on the table.  
"Probably not."

"DON'T MOVE THE PIECES!"  
"IT DOESN'T MATTER. GOHAN PASS ME THAT-"  
"OF COURSE IT MATTERS, THE INSTRUCTIONS—"  
"NOBODY USES THE INSTRUCTIONS PICCOLO. YOU JUST GUESS."

"I could've put it together myself but this is much more fun"  
18 regarded the other woman. This was really the first time they'd met. Of course she already had files on her, Goku's wife, no medical issues, formerly Chichi Ox, quite a formidable fighter in her own right. She seemed nice enough. Krillin had already warned 18 about Chichi being somewhat… what was the word he had used? Fiery.  
After half an hour in her house (again) and in her company, 18 was starting to feel slightly guilty over the stolen clothes from a few months ago.  
"So Gohan tells me you've been living with Krillin."  
"Hmm? Oh, yeah."  
"Goku and I didn't live together until we got married." Said the older woman rather casually, pouring boiling water into cups. 18 was about to protest when the monitor buzzed into life again.

"WHATS THAT? WHERE DID THAT COME FROM? DOES THAT ATTACH TO ANYTHING?"  
"NAHHH IT'LL BE FINE. THERE'S ALWAYS SOMETHING LEFTOVER. IT'S ALMOST NEVER ANYTHING IMPORTANT."  
"IT LOOKS _IMPORTANT_."  
"I CANT BELIEVE THIS IS HOW I'M SPENDING MY TIME." Came a resigned sounding voice; Piccolo.  
The response came from his Gohan, "BECAUSE YOU'RE USUALLY SO BUSY?" There was an uncomfortable silence. 18 raised her eyebrows and murmured something about 'living on the edge'. The boy's mother stirred the drinks she had made and placed them on the table, eying the monitor, "a teenager and a baby. This is going to be fun."  
"I'M NOT GOING TO LIKE YOU OVER THE NEXT FEW YEARS AM I?"  
"SORRY SIR"

Chichi pulled up a chair to the table and sat opposite the other woman, regarding her with a wry expression that 18 couldn't gauge. It made her slightly uncomfortable, to say the least.  
"Why Krillin?"  
"What?"  
"How come you ended up staying with Krillin. On that island. Feminist haven that it is."  
18 looked at her as if she were speaking a different language, "My van blew up. I needed a place to stay. Krillin was there…. What? What? Why are you looking at me like that."  
Chichi simply smiled and took a drink of her tea. From what she could gauge so far, from what she'd heard from Gohan, Krillin and Bulma(and even Piccolo had mentioned it, in that odd fashion of his that she assumed was him trying to make an effort with her), she decided that she might like 18 when she met her. And thus far she hadn't been dissuaded otherwise; the girl was no-nonsense, bluntly truthful and somewhat mysterious. Genuine. Yes, thought Chichi, so far, she liked 18. If of course you discounted the whole, designed to murder her husband thing, but that didn't really matter anymore…  
The real mystery, however, was why on earth this girl had attached herself to Krillin. Krillin, of all people. Not that he was a bad person or anything, in all honesty he seemed the most hard-working and together member of Goku's motley crew – but Chichi knew he was certainly no lady-killer. And the blonde, blue-eyed gorgeous little thing that sat opposite her was not….who she'd envision opposite the man.  
So she took it upon herself to investigate. And 18 was subjected to question-laden meddling/conversation for the next half hour as the boys in the next room struggled in vain to construct the cot. How old are you? How exactly did your van get destroyed? What do you think of Krillin's 'hair' (if we can call it that yet)?  
"It's…interesting. My files have nothing on him with hair…"  
"We've never seen it either. The only time we came close was that time he tried to grow a beard…. But anyway, it might be good for him. Making a change."

"DO YOU THINK 18 AND MOM ARE GETTING ON WITH EACH OTHER OKAY?"  
Their attention was drawn away by Gohan's voice crackling on the monitor. A deep base voice replied, "THERE HASN'T BEEN ANY LOUD SMASHING NOISES, SCREAMING OR EXPLOSIONS. I THINK THEY'RE FINE."  
"I LIKE 18. HER BROTHER IS WEIRD THOUGH."  
"I SECOND THAT OPINION." Came Krillin's voice.  
"YOU WOULD." The boy giggled.  
"HUH?"  
"HAVE YOU TOLD HER YOU WANT HER TO HAVE YOUR BABIES YET?"  
"HEH."  
"HMPH. I SHOULD NOT BE TAKING THIS FROM A 13 YEAR OLD. BESIDES, I AM FAR TOO PREOCCUPIED WITH THE WHOLE MAJON THING AT THE MOMENT. AND NO! I HAVENT... I DON'T…GAH!"

Chichi cleared her throat loudly and got up to refill the kettle, giving 18 a moment or two to peel her hands from her face and turn a shade a little paler than scarlet. Time to change the subject.  
"Do you know what's going on with that Demon woman?"  
All the android wanted to do was take the monitor and beat Krillin to death with it, but she refrained for the moment. Stupid faced little-god! How the hell did she even get herself into this weird parallel dimension full of puppy-dog eyed monks and meddling housewives and those damn plot devices that belonged in crappy romantic comedies. Deep breath. Inhale. Exhale. She'd beat him to death later.  
"The crazy one?"  
"So I've heard."  
So 18 explained all she knew. Which was quite little at the moment, especially considering that she had no idea of Krillin's cunning plan. Chichi nodded along, shaking her head at intervals exclaiming that there was something fishy about that woman, and then – _then_, thought 18, as her stomach did a weird sort of dance in her belly (where was that damn inhibitor when you needed it?), asked _her _how _she_ felt about it.  
Why should she feel anything about it? It was Krillin's problem. His mistake. If he had some admittedly gorgeous bunny-boiler haranguing him, what was it to her? Sure, she took issue with the fact that Krillin had no choice in the matter, or with the fact that he spent most of his time with a vague air of worry about him. That Majon and her demon promise were making that idiotic (infectious) grin of his less and less common. And that if he didn't figure out a way of escaping the promise he might end up leaving her and stuck in the Demon Realm forever probably. What use was he ther-  
"Leaving who?"  
"Huh?"  
The dark-haired woman simply smiled. Shook her head and said it didn't matter. 18 took a sip of her drink. Leave _me_.  
Now where did that come from?

* * *

All systems were go. It was zero hour. Majon and Therapy-guy were about to meet and soon Krillin would be freeeeeeeeeee.  
He hoped.  
As he sat and observed from across the other side of the canal, Krillin mused that bringing a man who'd only had one girlfriend and had previously been completed terrified of women and a teenage boy were not the best partners in this 'romantic situation manufacturing' endeavour. But since his other options were Roshi, Oolong, Piccolo and Tien – Yamcha and Gohan were definitely the way to go. The meeting had been set up quite close to Caspule Corp, along the banks of the city's canal, beautiful on a sunny day and the ideal place for a romantic rendezvous. Or so the guidebook said. They watched, sneakily, bated breath as the demoness, in another of her cerise summer dresses was greeted by Dr. Castaña, clad in a green shirt and jeans (how unprofessional. Fantasic) holding a notebook and smiling that pretty boy smile of his. They sat down on the nearest bench, conversing. Phase one – complete. This could actually work –no – this was going to work – no – it wasn't – he was going to have to live in the Demon Realm and –no be positive – oh god why, Roshi, why?

Yamcha was the first to break the silence. "So, what do we do?"  
Both he and Gohan stared at the monk expectantly, and he noticed that their hairstyles had finally coincided with one another. A follicular eclipse, if you will. It was weird he'd never noticed this before. Still, bets were still on as to whether or not Gohan would end up dying his hair green or shaving it off completely – to go with the purple gi. Krillin shook the thought from his head.  
"We set the mood."  
"How?"  
"What?"  
"How do we set the mood? Candles? Lighting? Music? I mean they're over there discussing her craziness and ex-boyfriend trouble. That's not first date material."  
Gohan nodded along. They were both still looking at Krillin, waiting for a snippet of inspiration. Maybe he should have brought Piccolo along; he was the man with the plan. Well, in most cases anyway.  
"I….um…. I don't know. "  
"You didn't get that far in your plan did you?" Krillin shook his head dumbly. Yamcha threw up his hands in despair.  
"Shit."  
"Oh, hey, what about Dragonballs?" He then ventured.  
"What do you mean?" asked Krillin, scratching his fuzz-covered head.  
"I mean we could wish them to fall in lov—"  
"No."  
"Why. It's not… cheating."  
"It's… unethical. And kind of…well…. Un-consensual." Krillin mumbled, half under his breath. His friend sat down on the grass next to him with a sigh.  
"And her winning you in a bet is?"  
"Can we not…"  
"Fine, fine." They sat silently for a moment.  
"Yamcha?"  
"Krillin."  
"Where's Gohan?"  
…..

Neither Ché nor Majon noticed a blonde youth in a hoodie sit down at the base of a tree a few feet away from them.

…

"I can see they're talking." Krillin squinted and held a hand out to shield his eyes from the sun, "I can't tell what abou- oo! Oo! She's laughing!"  
"We really can't do anything about this can we? We're going to have to let it unfold naturally."  
"Like hell we are. Maybe we can go over and spill orange juice on them both so he has to invite her back to his apartment… or, or we get someone to come onto her and he can step in…. No, ooo or they eat spaghetti and-"  
"Dude. Stop. You've exhausted every cliché known to modern cinema."  
"Well you think of something then!"

…..

Majon had to admit, once they'd gotten started, she was quite happy she'd agreed to this. Dr. Castaña was a fantastic listener (all part of the job, she supposed), made thoughtful comments and boy was he nice to look at.  
They started chatting, about unimportant things at first. The weather, jobs, any pets?("one," he said, "a dog called Moffat. Look here's a photo") Any siblings? Ché had four sisters, big family, quite close. What about you, Majon? What's your family like?  
He had a way of drawing information out of her without her realising, and eventually, everything just started pouring out. Her long list of fuckwit exes, emotional leeches and lying bastards came spewing forth like word vomit. The good doctor just nodded and listened and eventually talked back. Discussed. A voice of clarity and reason.  
It felt good to get it all off her chest… it was odd, she thought… that she didn't feel that she could say all of this to Krillin… maybe they weren't quite there yet… she didn't really want to scare him any more than he already was….she could, if she really wanted.  
The demoness shifted in her seat, "what about you?"  
Ché stopped for a moment and gave her a look she couldn't quite read. Majon continued, "Any advice from personal experience?"  
The Therapist gave out a rather bitter sounding laugh, "I wish. No. No advice from my own experience… just as messed up as everyone else's."  
"Do I detect a hint of something still being kinda raw?"  
The young man stared out over the water of the canal. "The usual story. Fell in love. They run off. I get to keep the dog at least. Everything hurts and then bam – right out of the blue… someone walks right into your life and its rainbows and sunshine and…" he trailed off, a blush coming to his cheeks. Majon tucked a stray wisp of white hair behind her ear, _sounds about right.  
Well… no rainbows and sunshine yet…. But soon….I think.  
_And thus they continued, barely noticing the soundtrack drifting over to them on the afternoon air, apart from the odd "I love this song." "Where is that music coming from… oh… I reckon it's that kid over there." The only silence between the two fell when they both noticed that the music coming from the sullen youth nearby, hood pulled up obscuring his face, was oddly… romantic in nature and now included what may have been "Kiss the girl." How odd.

Yamcha and Krillin had mutually decided that the fact the two 'lovebirds' were chatting away like no tomorrow and had, over the course of the past couple of hours, moved closer and closer together on the bench, was a good sign. And that they should probably go home. Also it was starting to get cold.  
Krillin could barely hide the grin as he could see that the two showed no signs of noticing this or ending their meeting. _Oh my god this might actually be working._He had figured out Gohan's position about an hour ago and signalled the boy to come back over.

"I tried, sorry I couldn't think of anything better to do."  
"Don't worry about it bro, at least you did something…. Anyway… did it look like they we're getting on okay?"  
"It looked pretty good from where I was sitting. I mean I couldn't hear everything… but I did catch bits and pieces. I think he might already be in love with someone though."  
Krillin flinched. Damn, damn, damn. He had to move fast if he was going to make this work.  
"Oooh but, she did that laugh thing that Bulma's mom does when she's flirting."  
"When isn't Bunny flirting?"  
"Shush, what do you mean."  
"Laughing really hard when a joke isn't even that funny. That's a thing, right?"  
"That's a thing, Gohan. That's a thing."  
Oh yeah. This was going work just fine. And with that, they all went home, leaving Majon and Ché to talk on.  
What Gohan had missed, however, was when Majon had begun to talk about her pregnancy – which, in hindsight, might have been rather handy for him to know.

* * *

Krillin was still happily basking in the joy of his success in matchmaking, cot building and having a conversation with 18 for more than half an hour without saying or doing anything horrifically embarrassing (although she was looking at him as if he _had_ said something… and she wanted to hurt him about it) when there was a knock at his bedroom window.  
Krillin sat up on his bed and listened. Surely that wasn't-  
TAP TAP  
No, yeah, definitely was. Ack, if Gohan had sneaked out again he was going to… well… there wasn't much he could actually do to Gohan. Tell on him. Probably. Or not. Just let him in and….  
He flung open the curtains and opened the window, only to be greeted with a pair of startling yellow eyes.  
"Majon?"  
"Bonjourno, sweetie."  
"How? What? Why are you?"  
"Can I come in?" she asked rather breathlessly. Not waiting for his answer she clambered in feet first, wiggling to get her sizable hips and eventually, wings in. Krillin, standing in a t-shirt and underwear, was still a little dumbfounded as to what she was doing in his room in the middle of the night.  
He hadn't long to find out.  
Kneeling, she grabbed the front of his t-shirt and pulled him forward. She bit her lip, smiled and stated, "Krillin. I really, really like you." Before planting a kiss full on the lips and shoving her hand down the front of his boxers.

"Uh oh."

* * *

_yes well. Um. Hope you guys like this chapter. Took me FOREVER to write... but totally worth it. Quite happy with that. Apart from the fact I have a joke I've been dying to use since I thought of the fic and havent been able to wrangle it in yet... soooooon tho. soooooon.  
But anyway. Please, send me reviews, constructive criticism, questions, theories. I love them.  
Thanks, and see you soon (hopefully ;D)_


	11. Dancing in the dark

_hey guys! well, its definately been a while. Sorry about that. But, I'm back for the summer now - I'm now officially a History teacher. So my summer is going to be full of fanfiction, kink memes and tumblr. And of course writing for you guys.  
One more into the breach!  
Comments/ reviews/ theories and anything you want to ask me at all - feel free. I always read and always appreciate._

**Chapter 11: also entitled 'Dancing in the Dark'**

_Don't you think about your actions?_  
_Counter-weight dire reactions?_  
_Zero soul, you're a loser's son_  
_But don't you go away from here - Admiral Fallow_

* * *

"What the hell are you doing?"  
She paused and their eyes met.  
"I…"

* * *

Che rubbed his nose and seemed to ponder the question.  
"What should I do?" the demoness had asked; half to him, half to the wind. He didn't know what her relationship with this new man was – she hadn't really explained – but he was sure that she would eventually. The basics were, as he understood it, that the previous man – the ex – had left her expecting and she cared for this new man and wanted to let him know; of her affections and her baby. Balancing the two would be difficult.  
"I think," said the Doctor, "I think that you need to let him know that you have some feelings for him. You need to tell him 'I like you' and just see how the chips fall."  
"See how the chips fall? And this is your job?"  
"Shush woman. Now. I doubt I can help you very much. I just think you should be truthful. You will have to tell him about your baby if you're serious about him…"  
He scrunched up his face, struggling to come up with something useful. He was a company psychologist graduated and in business all of 5 years. This was a little out of his depth. The weirdest thing he had dealt with so far were those two 'robot' twins.  
"You have to tell him. Be brave and to the point. Be truthful and tell him exactly what you want."  
_Brave. Exactly what I want._  
Majon smiled and put her hand over his. "Thanks, I'll try it one step at a time."  
"Just promise me you'll be sensible."

* * *

She still had her hand down the front of his boxers.  
"I… I'm letting you know that I like you… I'm being…creative…"  
"You're being crazy!" he backed away, pulling her hand out. His face was bright red, "this is… I mean… you don't need to do this Majon! For god sake!"  
He looked pissed off and, well…  
"You don't seem to mind"  
He frowned, dropped his gaze and quickly sat down on his bed, hunched over. He looked at a loss for what to say… or just too annoyed to form sentences.  
Majon was now kneeling on the floor in front of the bed looking back up at him. "But I thought that you liked me." She said softly.  
There was something in her voice that caught Krillin's attention. Something in her face. He'd seen it in the mirror countless times. It was his heartbroken face. His feeling-sorry-for-himself face. His sad and lost face.  
"Majon?"

"Why would you be so nice and sweet and let me think that you liked me back if you were going to just…"  
"Majon," he was calmer now, "I didn't, I never… I do like you, but I, I mean…M-Majon?"  
She wasn't paying attention, but was bowing her head; shoulders jerking up and down. _Oh god_, thought the monk, as he pushed himself off the bed and came quietly towards her, _she's crying_.  
"Are you? I'm sorry –I'm so sorry."  
She looked up at him, yellow eyes shining. "No," He went to put a comforting hand on her shoulder, but she held up hers to stop him, "No, don't be. This… this is my fault."  
He looked confused. She shook her head.  
"I I could've been a grown up. I could have been a demon about this – strong. Not cared. But it's not that easy. It's really… I'm not. I'm not strong enough – I'm such a coward. I'm so sorry that I pulled you into this. But I'm scared. I'm really, really scared."

Majon looked up at him and it was then that he saw it. She watched as confusion and then a spark of realisation flitted across his face. Krillin went pale as he figured it out. Figured out why he was chosen – why he was wanted.  
She waited for the anger and the hate as he realised that he was being used. She waited for the disgust. The revulsion at being stuck with someone who had kept the truth from him, trapped him and was taking advantage of him.  
She waited.  
And she waited.  
What she got was a hand on her knee, a tired sigh.

...

"How long?"  
"Before we met."  
"Before you made the bet with Roshi?" They were both sitting cross legged on the floor, backs against the bed. She'd stopped crying. She cringed, nodding.  
"Is this _why_ you made the bet with Roshi?"  
She nodded again. Krillin seemed to ponder on it.  
"Thought as much. So that's roughly…"  
"3 months-ish."  
"Have you told your ex?"  
"No. Not yet. I mean… I don't know if I –"she stopped when she saw the look he was giving her, "I'm gonna tell him."  
The ex-monk ran his fingers through his still-growing hair stubble. He heaved a sigh. It was late and he was tired. But it made sense. It all made sense.  
That's why she wanted a 'pet boyfriend' – she needed…someone. Someone there with her to hold her hand and support her. She was pregnant and freaking out.  
Oh god that's why she had been so into the 'nice guy' ideal. Why her eyes had lit up when she'd met Gohan and saw the relationship they had. She wanted a father for her baby who wasn't a douchebag.  
And the Demon Promise… Oh that Demon Promise. He was stuck without that impossible-to-find loophole. She had him essentially trapped.  
And yet.  
He wasn't terribly angry with her.  
If anything he felt… defeated. But hey.  
What else was new?

...

They talked well into the night and she explained. Explained why she did it, how she felt about it, when the baby was due. She even pulled out the sonogram.  
"That's it – there."  
"Really? That's it?" He remembered the similar picture Chichi had stuck to her fridge door.  
"I know. It's kinda boring so far. Doesn't even look like anything yet."  
Krillin scrutinised the image closer, a small smile playing on his lips; "looks like a bean."  
"A bean huh? That's cute," She took it back off him and smiled at the picture, "Hi Bean."

* * *

The next morning he woke up with an officially pregnant demoness spooning him.  
It took him a couple of seconds to remember what had happened last night. Majon. Inappropriate. Pregnant. Doomed.  
Oh yeah.  
Oh god.  
This was it for him. He hadn't found a loophole and now this. This.  
_But why does this change anything?  
_Krillin bit his lip. _This changes __everything__._

Shell shocked was probably the best word to describe Krillin as he sat at the kitchen table in the morning.  
Oolong and Master Roshi had exchanged nervous and worried glances over cereal. The old man ventured forward and croaky "Are you alright?"  
"Huh? Me? Um. Yeah."  
"Are you sure."  
"No – but I'll let you know later." He didn't make eye contact, but stared off into and through the wall over the top of his now cold cup of tea. "Is that oven gas or electric?" He forced out a hollow chuckle. Blinked and looked at this old master. "It's fine. Can I be… alone for a little while?"  
Roshi nodded quietly, not wanting to cause the boy any more distress.  
"Come on Pig – let's see if we can put the TV in the window and watch it from the deck chairs."

Krillin watched the ancient hermit hobble out and rolled his eyes. Returning to his previous occupation of having a staring competition with the far kitchen wall.  
There was a thump as he banged his head on the table.  
"FFFFFFuuuuuuckkkkkkk."

It was about 13 minutes after he had begun shouting at the table that he heard a small noise. Looking up, he realised that 18 was watching him from the doorway, thin eyebrows raised so high they were almost lost in her hairline. He sat up slowly, as if trying to regain some dignity.  
"There's nothing more manly than a blazing row with pine."  
He gave her his best unimpressed look and got up. Pouring his cold tea down the sink he tried to avoid her piercing gaze, at least for the time being. He was failing. He didn't want to discuss it – didn't want to discuss how and why his life was falling apart a piece at a time. Pregnant?  
It wasn't even his baby. It wasn't his baby. Not his…responsibility. Not even a teeny tiny bit.  
But.  
But… if he didn't do something. Find a way out of the Demon Promise and out of her affections () then it soon would be. He'd be playing daddy in the demon realm.  
Maybe he could make it work… hadn't he always wanted a family? Okay, so a demon family was a little outside the box… but -  
"Krillin"  
He noticed that the cup he had been washing was now just a handle. "Wait…what the…"  
18 was now lounging at the kitchen table, her gaze alternating between her nails and him._  
_Krillin scrunched up his face. She frowned at him. He didn't look right. Something had happened – something bad. But of course she didn't ca- "Why are you so quiet?" Okay maybe she did. A little.  
"Um. I'm fine."  
"I didn't ask if you were okay – I asked why you weren't chattering away like you usually do."  
He said nothing; he didn't want anyone else to know for now. The blonde woman rolled her eyes and nodded at the chair in front of her.

"Look, just sit down"  
He seemed to ponder this for a moment, then nodded.  
"Yeah okay."  
She didn't really know what to say to him, his usually happy puppy-dog face now glum and rather drawn. She didn't like this turn of events. Not one bit. He didn't suit it at all.  
18 decided to change the subject. "Do you know where my brother is?"  
Krillin seemed surprised by the question. "No I don't. He… actually… I've been seeing him less and less. What the hell is he up to?"  
"I have no idea… I've seen lots of car magazines around the house though…. Maybe he's been carjacking."  
"How's the therapy working for him?"  
"I think it is, you know. He hasn't flipped out or had a bad turn recently. He's renamed himself you know."  
"Oh god –what to?"  
"Fernando."  
"Fernando?"  
"Fernando."  
They both then burst into hysterical laughter.

A few moments later, she was up and had clicked the kettle on. He had brightened up a bit after helping her mock her brother. She watched him as he fidgeted with the broken mug handle.  
A few minutes later, she came back over to him holding two cups – one for her, one for him.  
"Thank you for the tea."  
"It's okay. You need it."

It took 18 a whole minute to realise just how close she was sitting next to him.  
She didn't move.  
At least not for a couple of minutes. Until she had finished her tea quietly. The android, when she had finished and failed to find a way of talking to him about whatever was worrying him, stood up and went to leave the kitchen – stopping behind the small monk, turning and regarding him.

18 then did something she later wouldn't be able to decide if she regretted or not. It could have been the emotions still readjusting. It could have been the therapy making her slightly more soppy – but as she stood quietly behind him as he sat; 18 reached out a hand to stroke his head and it tuned into an odd one-armed hug around his shoulders. Krillin felt a soft hand on his skull and then a lithe arm lock around his neck. With painful brevity and tenderness 18 rested her cheek atop his head and squeezed slightly before letting go – the embrace ending as quickly as it had begun.

She then left the kitchen, and Krillin to try and turn a shade lighter than scarlet.

* * *

Bulma swung open the door and looked down – as she often did, to find a bleary eyed Krillin looking forlorn and bedraggled in the rain. She knew that face. It was truffles, beer and oddly comforting head-to-boob hugs time.  
"My life has turned to shit. Can I have a hug please?"

It had been a little while since she'd had to comfort a distraught Krillin. The aftermath of the Cell Games had been rough – he'd been quick to place the blame at his own feet. But here they were again, sitting on one of the Capsule Corp balconies like old times. He lay with his head on her lap munching quietly on chocolates she had pulled from her emergency stash. Nobody had spoken in at least 10 minutes after he had explained the changes in the situation. But that was okay.  
Bulma nonchalantly stroked the fuzz on his head staring off into the horizon.  
"Babies do tend to mess things up a bit."  
"mmmrumph."

The scientist regarded her friend for those quiet moments. He was deep in thought, shoulders rising and falling as he breathed, resting on his best friend. She could tell he was worried, and she quelled a small but fresh wave of guilt as she realised that she hadn't taken the current situation as seriously as she should of. Sure, compared to the Cell incident, it was a minor hiccup – but this was her friend and his … well… his life at stake here. They hadn't been through all of this shit just to lose him here on a stupid drunken bet. They needed to help him find a loophole in the Demon Promise, somehow. Majon couldn't take him. She wouldn't.  
But. This new piece of information that had come tumbling from his shaken lips. This complicated things.  
It would make it far more difficult to shake her off or pawn her off to Che –because she had a motive and something to loose here. It also…. Krillin seemed conflicted. Bulma knew him; she knew he would feel guilty, torn even, about even thinking of 'abandoning' (if that was even the word) Majon and her baby. He knew it wasn't his – but that wasn't the baby's fault. She could see it in his eyes, that he couldn't decide whether he should take responsibility or not; give in and play the perfect pet boyfriend and caring parental figure.

"That baby… it isn't your responsibility you know… you're not… obligated."  
"I know. I know."  
He didn't sound too sure.

"Let's go get a drink." She nudged him to get off her – he was heavier than he looked. She supposed it was all of that muscle he hid under the horrific t shirts, pastel or luminous. They wandered back inside and Bulma popped open a bottle of wine, raising an eyebrow at how Krillin drank a large amount of the glass quite quickly.  
"Quick," said the woman, pointing at the glass, "half-full or half-empty?"  
He laughed.  
Bulma prattled on about other things, Trunks, what big Trunks might be up to, the potential of Krillin's ever darkening head fuzz. However, the monk had noticed something on the table.  
"What's this?"  
"That? Blueprint. I'm designing an AI to look after the gardens."  
"AI?"  
"Artificial intelligence. Kind of a robot mind. The sprinkler systems and climate controls are all on an old system and I think this might make things easier to manage."  
He never really understood the nitty gritty details of stuff like this – but god he liked listening to his friend talk about them. She explained what she wanted the AI to do and what voice she might use for it, and that she wanted it to be able to connect with its environment and all that jazz. Something that desired to take care of the gardens and life around it.  
"Krillin?"  
He was staring at the blueprints and then was shooting furtive looks out of the window towards the gardens. He had an idea.  
"What is it?"  
"I," said, grabbing a pen and pulling the blueprints towards him, "have a cunning plan."  
"Cunning you say?"  
"As cunning as a fox who has just been appointed Professor of Cunning at Oxford."  
"That is very cunning. Talk me through it, Frodo, talk me through it."

A couple of horse later, a thoroughly distracted Krillin sat watching as Bulma tampered with a box which looked like a security camera. She had told him it had millions of sensors and could respond and react to the world around it. In it, once everything else had been added and set up, an Artificial Intelligence. Almost alive. Sort of. Enough.

She soldered the last wire into place and attached the AI into a large solar batter. Switching I on, they both watched as the transferred a very important and delicate file into the AI's hard drive; she went about setting it up again.  
Eventually, she stepped back and sat down on the grass in front of the AI. Krillin crawled further towards it and the camera eye suddenly sparked into life, taking in its surroundings. The audio device buzzing, Krillin waved stupidly.  
"Hey. Remember me?"

* * *

Two and a half days later, 18 was somewhat surprised when 17 appeared at the front door of Kame House with a rather ruffled looking Yamcha in tow.  
Sha Yamcha. 183 centimeters tall. Professional Baseballer. Scars on cheek and eye. Born in Diablo Desert region. Likes cats.  
"What do you want"  
"Nice. I'm here to see Krillin."  
18 rolled her eyes and gestured wildly towards the kitchen, Krillin poking his head around the door frame, hastily removing a lilac pinny.  
Yamcha bounded over and swiftly picked the smaller man up off the ground – enveloping him in a bear hug: "Bulma said you could do with some cheering up."  
Krillin managed to wrestle himself free, red in the face.  
"Let go, I'm fine I'm fine." He then noticed 17 regarding them both with a cool smile on his face, "wait why are you with him?"

Yamcha turned and looked at the android standing next to him.  
"I found him in the video store on Red Street."  
"There sure was a lot of porn in there."  
"There's a lot of porn here" said a decidedly uncomfortable ex-bandit.

"I've brought you something to cheer you up!" 17 smiled that awful awful smirk of his. Like a cat watching a bird. Choosing the sauce.  
Yamcha blanched and dived for the bag, but the younger man simply batted him aside.  
"DONT"  
"Whu-? What is it."  
"HE'S NOT READY!" Yamcha was failing at the bag, as the android held him back at arm's length, ignoring his frantic pleas. He was talking to Krillin anyway.  
"Something I'm sure you'll love."  
"DON'T YOU DARE PUT THAT ON"  
"It's the best thing I have every witnessed. And I was present for 18 handing Vegeta his ass."  
"OH GOD."  
"This one's such a drama queen."

Krillin eyed the bag suspiciously, "Whats going on. Yamcha, what's going on?"  
"Okay okay okay…I was in the thrift video store in west city, I was trying to find Die Hard.. " his friend replied, glaring at the cyborg. "I was in the store. Turns out 17 was too."  
"That's me."

"Anyway. He talked at me and then he decided it would be hilarious to try and shoplift certain films form the adult section of the shop. Or… more specifically, sneakily put the videos into my trousers and watch me get tackled by security. It was at this point we….Krillin… we found something…. Something terrible."

At this, dramatically, 17 removed the video from the bag and put it into the video player.

"_Yamcha?"_

"Is that a dirty movie?"

"yeeesssss..."  
The pre-feature adverts played.  
"Is...is that an all-male dirty movie?"

"Yeah. But that isn't the worst part. We kind of spotted it from across the aisle... and had to get it... out of what I can only describe as bile-fascination." He looked guiltily down at his feet.

"oh yeah...how so?"

"...You know how some famous movies or major sports events, competitions...or say... tournaments are parodied or used as a basis for _adult interest films..."_

"Uh-huh."

"You seriously don't know where I'm going with this?"

Silence. He handed his friend the video case.

"Oh dear god- what? Is that? _Longest _under the heavens_?_ Oh god why? Who- who – is that. Oh god that's Goku! And that's supposed to be me?"

"Yup and I think so."

"Bloody hell!"

"Yeah, I just... had to see what they'd done" The three men stared at the screen, "...I ...regret it now."

"Which tournament is it based on?"

"23rd. See you can tell – (Yamcha tilted his head and squinted at the screen) that's supposed to be Tien and Goku's ...fight. To be honest they were pretty imaginative with the split form technique," there was more silence as they watched the muted scene with both horror and fascination, "apparently it won a couple of 'awards' for special effects and makeup" he said, looking at the back cover.

"Makeup? Why make-wwhhhhhooooaaaa!"

"Oh that is going to haunt my dreams. God look at you two go at it. I wont be able to look him in the eyes again...are we going to watch all of this? I mean we know how it ends..."

"I'm curious now. Curious. And dead inside."

18 had wandered back with the aim to annoy the guys and scare Yamcha. It took her a couple of seconds to process what she was seeing, before she backed silently out of the room; heading for the bathroom to go wash her eyes out completely after having witnessed the final round of Longest under the Heavens.

* * *

"I cant say that that cheered me up, in all honesty there Yamcha, 17."  
The younger man put down the pillow he had been clutching to his chest, "It wasn't SO bad."  
"17, I've just witnessed a porn film that involved an actor portraying me and another guy in green body paint doing dark and terrible things to one another. I don't think I can come back from that."

The ex-bandit remove his face from the sofa cushions. He seemed to have remembered something.  
"Birthday"  
Krillin looked at him and then clicked, "Oh, yeah. You're going to be old."  
"That's why I came here. Yeah. What are you doing on Saturday?"  
Krillin counted off a list on his fingers. Noting that apart from packing and crying – probably nothing.  
Yamcha sat up straight, the questionable porn film promptly forgotten. He explained that since he was getting old, this was probably his last chance to go out and drink like a teenager without looking sad and pathetic.  
He wanted to go out. Loud music. Alcohol. His band of merry men.  
"I've already managed to get Tien to come out for a couple of drinks. And Bulma. Come out and plaaaaayyyyyyy"  
Krillin thought for a second. Did he want to stay in on Saturday night, thinking about the abyss of the Demon Promise – or did he want to get drunk and forget the whole thing?  
"you want to come out?"  
"Definitely."  
"Awesome."

Yamcha sprung to his feet. Happy with the plans made, before heading to the door however, he looked pointedly at 17.  
"You're invited too, you know."  
"…Am I?"  
The other man nodded. The impassive mask of 17's face faltered for a moment and he agreed.

* * *

Piccolo was way out of his comfort zone.  
He didn't really know why he had agreed to this. He hated social events. Hated crowded places, loud music, large groups of humans. He hated the snug jeans that Bulma had conned him into wearing.  
But yet there he was, out with the Scooby gang in the city. Being sociable.  
But the sad thing was that he knew why he had agreed, really.  
Krillin had showed up at the Son household and after a rather suspicious conversation with Gohan, had hunted him down in the garden.  
_"So we're all meeting at 10pm at Capsule Corp."  
"Hmm?"  
"For Yamcha's birthday. Saturday. Suit up."  
He had been confused. "What?"  
"We want you to come out with us for Yamcha's birthday. With the rest of the guys."  
Piccolo had felt a rather odd sensation in his chest._  
He was only going to stay for an hour anyway.

And so Yamcha's epic birthday night out had begun.  
It had all started out well enough, 17 and 18 involved in the shenanigans too. The music was good, the drink was flowing and everybody was in good spirits.  
Krillin smiled as he noticed the effort his friends were making with 17 and 18. It was the small things that counted, and a usually incredibly uptight Tien laughing with the dark-haired twin was just something wonderful to Krillin. He noticed Yamcha and Bulma flirting aggressively with one another – their favourite pastime when they weren't arguing. 18 was cooling watching the bar around her, gorgeous and aloof in a summer dress and sandals.  
And apparently Piccolo had no concept of his alcohol limits, thought Krillin, as he noticed the huge namek loosen up slowly but surely. The frown fading away as the rum took effect.  
His phone buzzed as a text message came through.

As the night progressed, the empty glasses and bottles cumulated on the table in front of them and around them and conversation had degenerated into horrific stories of drunken incidents and truths, old tales from way back when (the story of how Yamcha and Bulma had clumsily lost their respective virginities being a big hit) and 'you swore you'd never tell!' declarations. Words were becoming slurred and babbling incoherent.  
Yamcha threw an empty bottle at Krillin, who had been fiddling with his phone.  
"What are you doing? You're missing drunk Piccolo. Look at how awesome he is!"  
Krillin looked up to see Drunk Piccolo had acquired a Hawaiin Lei and a cigarette.  
Yamcha made to grab the phone from his friends hand, but Krillin knocked them away. The birthday boy raised an eyebrow.  
"Whatever man. Look. Just go talk to 18 some more. She might have drunk enough to kiss you again."  
"oh haaaa haaa" replied Krillin, as his feet took him towards the blonde cyborg, drunk also. Swaying slightly, she scowled at him.  
"Uh oh, what have I done?" He slurred at her.  
She shook her head violently and slumped down in the seat next to him. "I wish I knew," she said as she rested he head on his shoulder.

* * *

Sunlight.  
Sunlight steamed in through the window, penetrating the room and soaking it in a warm glow. Krillin scrunched up his face against the light.  
Oh god his head hurt. That dull aching thudding in his brain, turning it to mush and ensuring that if he so much as moved a muscle then he would projectile vomit all over the bed.  
Bed.  
He opened his eyes slowly to find himself in his own bedroom, its familiar smell mingling with another oddly familiar scent. The stale scent of last night's bar, sweat and something else.  
Perfume?  
He froze.  
Oh god oh god. He turned slowly in the bed, pushing himself up tenderly to avoid the feeling of nausea, noticing the outline of a person in the bed with him. The outline moved and he found his own dark eyes meeting bright blue.  
Oh no.  
"Morning sleepy head! How are you feeling, Krilly?" came the sing song voice of the woman next to him.  
Oh.  
Well.  
Fuck.  
"Hey Maron."

* * *

_soooooo yet another fabulous (and horrifically predictable) twist. Come one, this is a rom-com. You cant leave the ex out.  
anyhoo. As per usual - any theories/comments/ reviews/ constructive criticism/ questions - throw them my way. I love them._

I'm planning to get doodling - some sketches and character designs for the story and stuff like that - so keep an eye on the Deviant art link on my bio.

Adieu for now, kids and kidettes. xx


	12. Radio Gaga

_I'm so sorry I've taken so long to get this out! I have a valid excuse though. I've been a History teacher for the past year and it takes up 447% of your time. Seriously._  
_But I am free for now, and am getting my fanfic on.  
Comments/ reviews/ theories and anything you want to ask me at all - feel free. I always read and always appreciate. I've been living on reviews over the past year. Love them._

**Chapter 12: also entitled 'Radio Gaga'**

_And I would walk five hundred miles_  
_And I would walk five hundred more_  
_Just to be the man who walked a thousand miles_  
_To fall down at your door - 500 miles by the Proclaimers_

* * *

"Why do you look so ill Krillin? Are you hungover?"  
She giggled. With his head pounding, he didn't find this as cute as he used to.

"Maron… what…what are you doing here?" He asked, squinting up at the woman. She looked non-plussed.  
"Well," she said, "you sent me a text last night asking me how I was, and we got chatting and since we were both out you suggested that we meet up – (Krillin groaned) – and here we are!"  
_"Really?"  
_"Really."  
"That seems awfully contrived…" Krillin stared blankly at the ceiling for a moment, then let out a sad little sigh. "So did we…?"  
She stared. Unblinking.  
"…have the sex?" he whispered.  
"did we have sex?" the woman squeaked, furrowed eyebrows.  
"um… yes."  
"_We _didn't."  
"I… wha… we didn't?"  
"Nope." She giggled.  
"Wait then why are you here?"  
"We were going to have the sex but then we didn't."  
"Oh… that's…that's good." Krillin let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.  
"We could have sex now if you'd like?"  
"um… no. That's alright. I… hang on… what do you mean _we _didn't"  
"Well, I think other people did."  
"Who?"  
But it was too late and she was up and out of the bed, sashaying towards the door wearing a shirt that was far far too big for her, and most definitely not Krillin's. He didn't dwell on it. He was too confused. He was too tired. Too hungover.  
He lay back on the bed and tried to go back over the events of the night before.

...

The fog in his mind was clearing and he could see himself and 18 sitting on the pavement in front of the bar. He could see it all as if he were watching a tv. _God. Is that what I sound like when I'm drunk? How the hell can I sound so nasal if I've got no-Is that what my hair looks like?! _

_They'd been talking. That was it. They'd left the others and went outside for fresh air. He had no idea how long they'd been outside, what they'd talked about. He dreaded to think, as he knew from experience that he was drunk prone to unveiling things best left unsaid or to the imagination. _

"You're so annoying"  
"Oh shut up you love it really. Otherwise you wouldn't still be here." _Urgh. Nasal.  
_She gave him a funny look.  
"Oh look its Sassy-pants again."  
"That's Mr. Sassy-pants to you blondie."  
"So rude."  
"So mean."  
"So short."  
"So beautiful." _And she was. Even with unfocused eyes, mussed up hair and the scent of liquor on her breath. _  
"That escalated quickly."  
_He looked (squinted) up at her, lovely and golden under the neon light of the streetlamps. All of the booze, all of the fear, the momentary joy of being so damn close to her, the panic and unrequited adoration melded and merged – forming one huge wave of bravery in the pit of Krillin's stomach._ "You're perfect." _Kami, did I really say that?_

She gave him a small half-smile.  
And with that he reached up and kissed her cheek lightly. She didn't slap him, or jerk away as he'd expected, but turned her head towards him and leaned forward slightly, eyes fluttering shut.  
He then vomited into her lap.  
_Hot._

He blinked away the memory as the door opened.  
It wasn't Marron, but Oolong. Sporting a wicked grin and barely containing his laughter – the shapeshifter let out a low whistle at his friend.  
"Krillin buddy. I don't know how you do it."  
"Neither do I Oolong. Neither do I."  
"Hey, before you get too distracted – I suggest you go look in your room."

Krillin looked around. This wasn't his room. This was the spare room. Usually 18's.  
Where was she?  
He stared at the pig in an owlish fashion.  
"Go. Look. In. your. Room."

...

Krillin couldn't tell whether he was amused or terrified with what he found in his room.

"What are you doing?" Krillin nudged a figure curled up into a ball of blankets the floor. The bed was untouched. A face peered out from a corner. There was no reply, only a scowling blank stare. The bedroom's occupant seemed to be having trouble processing what was going on.  
"You know you could've used the bed."  
Krillin shook his head and decided to give the dazed namekian some time to pull himself together. Maybe put some clothes on.

Yamcha had apparently decided to stay the night at Kame house too. At, being perhaps, the wrong word, as the ex-bandit was curled up outside on a deck chair, snoring.  
Krillin couldn't decide whether he wanted a drink of water, to be sick or to roll into a corner and die.  
Fortunately however, his stomach chose for him and he barely made it to the sink before vomiting .

Apparently, almost everyone had followed Krillin home and after collapsing into unconscious heaps on chairs and the settee, woke up suffering ungodly hangovers. The only member of the gang not there was Bulma – but that had only been because Yamcha was forced to phone Vegeta to come and collect her. She'd not only tried to buy the bar they'd been in, but had then started… suggesting things. Terrible questionable things. He couldn't really look Vegeta in the eye when he'd literally handed him the unconscious woman.

Krillin had trundled down his stairs that morning to be met with thunderous applause from Yamcha, 17, Tien. Even Chaouzu and Oolong. 18 was nowhere to be seen. Piccolo was probably drowning himself in the shower. Poor bastard. He'd socialised. _The horror_.  
"Bravo. Bravo."  
"Encore!"  
"And for his next trick, the Great Krillini will make yet another woman appear out of thin air!"  
"I hate you all."  
Yamcha handed him an energy drink . "Tell us what you've gone and done now."  
There was a dull thud from somewhere outside the window. Tien opened it and looked out.  
"Yeah, I wouldn't try and fly for another hour or two."  
There was a grumble of a reply from what Krillin assumed was a defeated and sandy namekian.

The monk nursed a tall glass of cold water with shaky hands as he sat quietly in the living room, the others staggering in at random intervals, staring blankly at the colourful sitcom muted on the TV set.  
_"deeeelightful"  
18 got up and glided back into the club towards the toilets in one smooth motion. A look of bland disgust never leaving her perfect features. Krillin nodded sagely to himself, as he wiped sick from the corner of his mouth.  
"That could've gone better." He croaked. Feeling much more sober.  
But still. Progress.  
"I just don't understand how they happened."  
"Nobody does. I've asked them both but I get different stories. Neither of them will admit to giving in first. But I think that Trunks was the turning point in their relationship … so to speak."  
"Why would you name your child that? It's bad enough he has lilac hair. But Trunks?"  
"Yeah. Hell I'm starting to feel a bit sorry for him really. Which really tells you something, if its earning __**my **__pity." Krillin chuckled.  
18 stopped mocking Bulma and Vegeta for a second to scrutinize her short companion.  
"Stop doing that."  
"What."  
"That self-deprecating shit. It's annoying listening to you bully yourself," she seemed unsure of where to look, but hastily added; "means I can't do it."  
Krillin shrugged and suddenly looked very uncomfortable.  
"Aw c'mon it's all I've got. I mean… even I've got to admit, (and I've been to space so I overrule you), I'm pretty much a joke to the entire universe."  
"No you're not." She said quietly, "not to me."  
Oh. Blood had roared in his ears and the very thought that she didn't think him ridiculous was almost enough to make him spontaneously combust.  
She flashed him a small smile which then vanished with the brief flash of warmth that had surged and broken in her eyes._

Oh yes, thought Krillin as he watched the android stomp off to wipe the vodka infused vomit from her front, there had been some progress.  
He had not noticed, however, a familiar figure finish a cigarette and head back inside towards the toilets. Che did not need to be in at work the next day – and with all of this robot-android-cyborg craziness going on –he had needed a drink.

Krillin's phone buzzed to life.  
_**here. at bar. xxx m  
**__18 had dissapeared inside. Krillin looked at the phone again._

Yamcha made a unsubtle coughing sound and threw a cushion at his friend. "So what happened to you last night dude? I have a feeling I missed the best bits."

...  
"…And then I was sick on her."  
There was a collective groan from the audience Krillin had amassed on his living room floor.

"All of the girls in the world and you go for the emotionless cyborg who can kill you with her little finger?"  
"All the girls? Do you even know me? And she's not emotionless! She just doesn't show it as much as other people do. She's…..subtle."  
Tien and Chaouzu shared a look that seemed to solidify Krillin's status as a 'gonner'. 17 seemed bemused if anything. He'd been aware of the gigantic crush Krillin had on his sister, but had thought of it only really as that – a crush. Now it was getting interesting.  
"Who's the girl who came home with us then?" he asked the monk.  
"That… That's Maron. She's…"  
"I was Krillin's girlfriend." Came a sickly sweet voice from the doorway, as Maron, clad in last night's dress (or enough material to constitute as a dress) walked in. 17 looked unconvinced, "really?" he said "I mean I've seen the files but…". The look on his face seemed to say, '_how the hell did he manage that?'  
"Yeah," _whispered Yamcha as he nudged him, _"I know."  
..._

Maron had appeared just after 1am. She'd been out too, and had been thrilled when he phone had lit up and Krillin's name had appeared on the screen. She had always had a soft spot for Krillin, and he'd always treated her so well. The blue haired beauty weighed up her options; respond to the texts of an obviously drunk (but also confused?Upset?Worried? Krillin. She couldnt tell with such bad 'drunk text spelling'), catch up and be treated like a queen or stay at this bar and get hit on by guys with more fake tan and hairgel than braincells.  
Easy choice.  
She'd spotted that pretty baseballer guy and the insecure-about-her-age woman. Probably better to avoid those two, but Krillin would show up sooner or later so she sent him a text and struck up a conversation with two interesting looking bald men.  
"I want to paint my kitchen that colour."  
Ah Maron, making friends already.  
...

It was 3 o'clock in the afternoon when 18 finally returned home, still wearing last night's clothes _(ew that stain is never coming out), _immensely dishevelled and still in a state of mild confusion. She was hoping to avoid bumping into Krillin for the rest of the day – silently hoping he was still sleeping off whatever the hell it was he had drunk the night before. The conversation, the horrific hour or so of drunken bonding that had occurred had led to way too much oversharing on both sides and quite frankly – it was going to be awkward.

The house was deserted apart from someone clunking about in the kitchen. She could hear voices coming from the other side of the house, outside. Nope. Not ready for that yet. 18 took off her jacket and let out a sigh. Eurgh. She still felt embarrassed. She hated that feeling.

_"I suppose he is rather handsome when he isn't scowling"  
"I know! And that damn porn film doesn't help… "  
18 snorted into her drink.  
_It had been going rather well, to be honest. She was being sociable. With people she had tried to murder only half a year before. Because that made sense.  
But it was strange to think how comfortable she felt amongst them. Yes, she had her brother there, but alcohol was a great leveller, and their wariness of her and hers of them faded as the night went on. Even Tien, down in her files as cautious and sensible, had spoken to her (though more to her brother. Another thing noted in the files). Bulma had shrieked and laughed and seemed more at home with her boys then 18 could ever see her in a board-room or head office of a mega-corporation. It had amused (or worried. She was still trying to tell the difference) her that she realised she was enjoying herself. But she was more than a little side-tracked when she realised that she was enjoying the company of one person in particular.  
They had gone outside to talk. Both a little boozed up.  
But things had gone a little tits up when he threw up on the ground in front of her and oh of course some of it had hit her.

As she went to find the toilets, 18 decided that Krillin would buy her a new t-shirt. As she snaked through the revellers towards the WC sign, her attention was briefly garnered by a petite young woman talking to Tien and Piccolo. Or talking at. All she could really see was the woman seemingly asking the (really very drunk) namek something and Tien pulling a face that meant he clearly expected to have to stop the ex-Demon King from tearing out the girl's heart and eating it in front of her.  
"Eighteen?"  
The blonde turned around on unsteady feet. As she focused, she could see a well-groomed bespeckled man holding a beer and waving manically at her. It was her Psychiatrist. Her incredibly attractive Psychiatrist.  
In the end, she didn't go back to Krillin, who sat sobering up outside.

...

18 walked into the kitchen to find Maron making smoothies. A drop-dead gorgeous woman was in Krillin's kitchen.  
She vaguely wondered if she was having a stroke.

"Hello, I'm Maron!"  
She said nothing.  
"You must be Eighteen! It's nice to meet you!"  
My god her breasts were big.  
"Krillin's told me all about you! Do you want a smoothie? I've made a lot…"  
Like. Massive. Had she transferred from another anime? She looked famil-the red files bleeped into the outskirts of her vision.  
Pyrite Maron. Human. Female. Receptionist. IQ level-err0r- Ties to Krillin.  
The blue-haired girl in the photographs. The ex-girlfriend.  
What was she doing here?  
"You don't talk much do you?"  
"Where did you come from?" 18 asked, rather coldly. Maron was oblivious.  
"Oh I came back with Krillin and the others. I didn't see you last night"  
"I had to wash puke off my top, then I had to ….um…. I went somewhere else."  
"Oh okay. That's a shame. I think Krillin missed you."  
18 turned to leave the kitchen, looking back over her shoulder to the attractive woman behind her. "Oh I'm sure Krillin didn't miss me at all."

Once out of the door, 18 found she was out of breath. She could feel a wave of ice wash over her.  
Damn hangover. Damn inhibitor.  
Dammit.

"18!"  
Krillin stumbled back into the house and almost rushed towards her. He reminded her so much of a puppy greeting an owner back from work that she had to really fight the urge to kick him in his stupid little face.  
He stopped short when he noticed how guarded she looked. The kitchen door clanged shut and he heard Marron's shrill voice announce that she'd made smoothies.  
"Ah.. I see you've met Maron." He did that idiotic thing where he rubbed the back of his head with his hand. Urgh. Puppy-faced cretin.  
"Mmhmm."  
"Look, it's not like –"  
"I don't care, Krillin. I really don't care." She scowled at him. The fact that she couldn't keep that blank mask annoyingly proving to herself that she did care. A little.  
"She's not-"

"What's it like not having eyebrows. Do you ever wish you had them?" Came a sickly sweet voice from outside.  
18 and Krillin both whipped their heads around the door.  
"Krillin get out there before he kills and eats her."  
"You'd be handsome if you didn't look so weird."  
"Go now."  
"Oh hell, MARON!"  
With that the monk ran outside. 18 didn't follow him, but let out a small whinging sound and with her back to it, slid down the doorframe.

...

Throughout all of this, an oblivious Majon busied herself with trying to finish the refurbishment of her club, whilst simultaneously trying to explain to her brother that yes, he was going to be an uncle and no, she didn't need him to hunt down and eviscerate the father. But it was sweet to offer.

* * *

_**Oh my god Maron you cant just ask why someone is green.**_

Thank you so much guys who have stuck with me (and new people hellloooooo) it should be updating pretty smoothly from now on (although I have said that before please still love me). As per usual - any theories/comments/ reviews/ constructive criticism/ questions - throw them my way. I love them. So much.

Things will be starting to kick off next chapter. Mwahahaha.  
Also, potential Vegeta.

Also, you have no idea how hard it was for me not to derailed on a crack!pairing this chapter.

Auf weidersien kids, if that is how you spell it. See you soon.


End file.
